


There's a Crack in Everything (That's How the Light Gets In)

by bgharison



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Canon-Typical Violence, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-23
Updated: 2020-08-24
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:00:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 28,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26063866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bgharison/pseuds/bgharison
Summary: One needle, then another, after another, slipped with practiced ease into his aching shoulder.  Mental and emotional trauma, he’d learned, caused pain right along with bullets and shrapnel.  Tension: specifically, Danny tension.  Steve sighed and took a sip of his tea.  There was something about Danny . . . the physical attraction had been immediate, if unexpected.  But there was a challenge about him . . . a mystery to solve.  Steve took another sip of tea.  He’d turned his back on this life -- intelligence.  Tracking people, cracking people . . . which was why he’d declined the governor’s offer of immunity and means to run a task force.  His hands hesitated over the cover of his laptop for a moment before opening it and starting a search.An hour later, his tea long cold and forgotten, he closed the laptop, slipped the needles out of his shoulder and went into the garage.  Maybe he’d just lost his edge on reading people, he thought, as he gathered gear, dusty from a year of mis-use.  Or maybe there was some logical explanation for why it sure seemed like his new patient was not who he said he was, because otherwise . . .What was he hiding, and why was he hiding a little girl?
Relationships: Steve McGarrett/Danny "Danno" Williams
Comments: 61
Kudos: 174
Collections: H50 Big Bang 2020





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Artwork and playlist by [pterawaters](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pterawaters/pseuds/pterawaters)
> 
> [ **Playlist compiled by pterawaters -- Listen Here** Beta reading and cheerleading by ](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1e8A65ykwMxitUhwDOQMww?si=UtH6y0gJS8OmS_mcplZ6pA) [ariestaurus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aries_taurus/pseuds/aries_taurus)

**__ **

[ **Playlist compiled by pterawaters -- Listen Here** ](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1e8A65ykwMxitUhwDOQMww?si=UtH6y0gJS8OmS_mcplZ6pA)

****

* * *

**_“Ring the bells that still can ring_ **

**_Forget your perfect offering_ **

**_There is a crack in everything_ **

**_That’s how the light gets in”_ **

**_~Leonard Cohen, "Anthem"_ **

* * *

**Chapter 1**

“Seriously, boss, I’m begging you, bend the rule about dating clients, please?”

Steve looked up from his desk in amusement.

“Kono, we are professional health care providers here,” he said. “No dating clients. And quit trying to set me up.”

“I’m asking for myself,” Kono said. She beamed at him, a flash of white teeth and dimples. “He’s adorable. Like a . . . like a fluffy little lion cub. I want to take him home and just --”

“Okay then, Kono, let’s get --” Steve glanced down at his schedule -- “Mr. Wilson into a treatment room.”

“Can I get him to put on a gown?” Kono asked. 

Steve looked at her sternly as she blinked in mock innocence.

“Does he need to be in a gown for me to work on his knee?”

Kono chewed thoughtfully on her lip. “He’s wearing shorts,” she sighed. “Maybe he’ll throw his lower back out before his next appointment . . .”

Steve shook his head in amusement, felt his hair tickle over the tops of his ears. It still felt a bit foreign, longer like this, softly curling at the nape of his neck. He was settling into his new life slowly, the island of Oahu starting to feel like home again after years of missions. The Navy medical retirement package had been generous. It wasn’t their fault it felt like an exile. He’d turned down the governor’s proposal of leading a task force: it felt too much like a consolation prize. Besides, violence had taken all he had to give, and then some. He was done.

Kono’s double tap on his office door shook him out of his thoughts. 

“Mr. Wilson is all set, boss,” she said. “He’s the last one for the day, mind if I skip out early? Waves are kicking at Sandy’s.”

“Yeah, that’s fine, Kono,” he said. “See you Monday.”

She threw a fist into the air and grabbed her bag, practically running out the back door of the tidy bungalow before he could change his mind, or the phone could ring. He smiled after her fondly. Kono had been a good choice; her bubbly personality offsetting his reserve. 

She brought a warmth and light to the small practice that was desperately needed. Besides, she was related to half the island -- a significant number of his best regulars were her cousins. He was still mystified as to which ones were actually blood relatives and which weren’t. She stood to make the pro circuit this year, and if so, he’d have to replace her. He sighed at the thought as he pushed back from his desk and headed down the hall.

He tapped softly on the door of the larger of the two treatment rooms. There was the sound of a throat clearing, then a voice.

“Um, yeah. Okay.”

Steve opened the door and mentally cursed Kono for introducing the lion cub image into his consciousness. 

“Mr. Wilson, hello,” he said, extending his hand. 

“Please, call me Danny.” The handshake was firm and confident. “Nice to meet you, doctor -- mister --”

Steve chuckled. “Steve is fine.”

Danny narrowed his eyes and made an obvious sweep of the room, his gaze coming to rest on the certifications neatly framed on the wall.

“So you’re not an actual doctor, then,” he said. He was squinting a bit at one of the certificates.

“Diplomate in Acupuncture and Oriental Medicine,” Steve said. He was unoffended. He would have been skeptical, too, before the six months he spent on the narrow cot of a tribal healer in a tiny village on the wrong side of the DMZ. A village he walked out of, after the Navy had given him up for dead and called off the search.

Danny grunted. “Well, you’re my Hail Mary shot before surgery, which is going to pose a serious problem for me. I can not -- can NOT -- take six weeks or more off from my work.”

“Hop up on the exam table, let’s see what we’ve got,” Steve said. He didn’t miss the flex of shoulders and biceps as Danny easily lifted his body weight onto the table. Professional observation, of course.

Steve grasped Danny’s ankles and swept them up, placing Danny prone on the table.

“So what kind of work do you do, Mr. Wilson, that surgery and recovery would be such an inconvenience?” Steve asked. His hands wrapped around Danny’s knee, deft fingers probing the tender and swollen joint. Danny was warm, soft hair and skin layered over lean muscle, and Steve made a mental note to expressly forbid Kono from likening clients to adorable apex predators ever, under any circumstances.

“Just took over ownership of Keana Farms,” Danny said. 

Steve looked up in surprise. “The place that was going to have the zip-lines?”

“Yeah,” Danny said. “Risky business venture, to start with, and doing most of the work myself, well . . . I keep tweaking this old injury.”

Steve pressed firmly on the swollen joint, causing Danny to hiss in pain.

“You once tore this ACL,” Steve said, his tone a bit reproachful. “This knee has been subjected to severe trauma.”

“I mean, not intentionally,” Danny pointed out. “So what’s the verdict, doc? Can you patch it up by jabbing it with a bunch of needles? ‘Cause, no offense, but that’s how desperate I am, that I’m willing to try.”

“It will work better if you can learn to trust the process, but yes, I believe I can help you,” Steve said. “The biggest problem is inflammation; blood and fluid pooling instead of flowing. I believe we can successfully redirect the energy flow and give you relief, yes.”

“That is excellent news,” Danny said. “Okay, jab away. Sooner the better.”

Steve wrapped a hand around the offending knee again. Danny was practically vibrating with nervous energy.

“Mr. Wilson, if we’re going to even contemplate a treatment today, you’re going to have to relax,” Steve said. He began probing pressure points gently with his thumb, trying to release some of the tension in the joint. 

“Relaxing isn’t exactly my strong point,” Danny said. He was propped up on his elbows watching Steve’s every move.

“I never would have guessed,” Steve retorted dryly, arching an eyebrow at Danny. 

“Sorry, I just don’t have the whole chill surfer mindset,” Danny said, gesturing at Steve, a sort of all-encompassing wave of the hand that included everything from Steve’s hair to his slippahs, and then swirled again around the colorful ink on his biceps, visible under the edge of his scrub sleeves.

Steve had never seen so much conveyed by a hand gesture, and he’d studied a bit of ASL. 

“You’re going to have to dig deep, then, and find your Zen,” Steve said, “because you’re too hard. Tight. Your muscles are too tight.”

Danny quirked an eyebrow, and Steve made another mental note to just smack Kono on the ass on Monday. She deserved it. She’d also enjoy it, but that was another line of thought altogether.

“Okay, so I’m going to need you to lie down,” Steve said. “Let’s see if we can’t find a way to release some of this tension.”

Danny just outright smirked at him at that point, while his eyebrows shot up toward his hairline. 

Somehow, this was Kono’s fault.


	2. Chapter 2

Danny drove home with a half smile on his face. His knee didn’t feel better, exactly, but it felt . . . looser. He’d watched, completely mesmerized, as Steve had placed the needles, his big hands somehow managing the delicate instruments with ease. 

His big hands had also managed Danny’s knee with ease, warm and strong as he -- Danny shut down that thought firmly. He was a single parent, raising a child under an assumed identity -- his life was complicated enough. Complicated and lonely, and that was, of course, the explanation for this unexpected flare of attraction -- no, _curiosity_ , he decided -- curiosity regarding his new acupuncturist. He wondered if Steve realized that his carefully schooled features hadn’t quite managed to hide the wince when he’d straightened, after having been bent over the table for a few minutes. The subtle intake of breath and tightening of his eyes and mouth were so quickly covered, most people wouldn’t have noticed. 

Then again, Danny wasn’t most people. He noticed everything. Too many years of training and practice to stop now -- besides, the stakes had never been higher, and his powers of observation, of reading people, of seeing through disguises and lies, might just be the edge that would keep him and his daughter alive until this mess was over.

He pulled off the road onto the narrow gravel drive leading back to the beleaguered property that was not only his cover, but his home -- his fortress. He pulled up to the gate and keyed in one of two codes -- the one that verified that all was well, and that he was not under duress. The gate opened smoothly, its deliberately aged and tenuous appearance, tucked between dense, impenetrable vegetation disguising the fact that it was part of the newly installed state-of-the-art defense. 

The drive was long, curving around thick, tangled vines and brambles that barely hinted at previous planning and careful attention. With a bit of work, the grounds would once again be functional and attractive. His Camaro handled the gentle incline with ease, and soon he was passing a small but well-equipped cabin, and then pulling into the ground level garage of his home, opening the garage door with another code. It slid closed behind him, the motion sensors glowing at each other in the dim light. He climbed a flight of stairs in the cool cement garage, and entered a third code at the door between the garage and the house, the heavy deadbolt sliding open. Danny locked the door behind him and reset the alarm.

“You realize that three sets of coded entry is going to be difficult to explain to visitors,” a calm voice said. The clink of a spoon on porcelain in the kitchen, along with the scent of rich Kona coffee, was welcome.

“You realize that I don’t plan to have visitors,” Danny said. “Coffee fresh?”

“Thought you’d like a cup.”

“Chin Ho Kelly, you are a god among men,” Danny said. “Where’s Grace?”

“In her treehouse,” Chin said, taking a sip of coffee.

Danny felt his blood pressure ratchet up a notch, and he stepped to the French doors that opened onto a second story deck, peering out anxiously. A sturdy crosswalk with narrowly spaced, tall railings connected to a playhouse tucked into the trees. He could see Grace, her dark pigtails bobbing as she set up a tea party for a few well-worn teddy bears.

“Danny. She’s safe. We spent as much time on that treehouse as we did on your security system. You live on Oahu. A pale child with Vitamin D deficiency -- that’s going to stick out like a sore thumb.”

Danny heaved out a sigh and ran a hand through his hair. “I know. It’s just . . . “

“Scary. I know. But you can’t risk long-term psychological effects on your daughter while dealing with short-term security issues. This place is without a doubt one of the most physically secure locations I’ve ever used, and your cover is one of the best. The trial will be over before anyone really notices you’re here,” Chin said. “Especially if you manage to stay out of internet linked medical records. How’d the appointment go?”

“Well, you were right about your cousin,” Danny chuckled. “She is a firecracker. Steve was . . . reserved. Not what I expected.”

“His old man was pretty reserved, from what I remember of my HPD days. Quiet, but dependable, and a true friend when it counted most. Stood by me personally, even when IA and the rest of the force turned on me, he gave me a glowing recommendation to the Academy. If he hadn’t been murdered in a bungled home invasion, he’d probably still be serving as chief of police. Or, hell, the governor might have given him some appointment; old family friends. I was actually referring to the knee, though. What do you think?”

“Eh. Not sure what to think about all this hocus pocus stuff. Too soon to tell. But it makes it easier to avoid paperwork and I don’t want to be out of commission, so I appreciate the suggestion, anyway,” Danny said. 

“Did my name come up today?” Chin asked.

“Kono had your name down as the person who referred me. I told her how much I appreciated your knowledge of the island and your willingness to work with an outsider,” Danny said. “She didn’t seem to question it at all.”

“Well, as far as Kono knows, I’m still an outsider myself. John was the only person who knew that when I went to the mainland in supposed disgrace, it was to join the FBI. And it shouldn’t be a hard sell, coming back here as a former HPD looking to pick up private security work.”

Danny sighed. “There’s no one I’d rather have on my six, but . . . I’m sorry our paths crossed on this case. You having to come back here undercover, not being able to clear your name with your family, your friends . . . it’s not fair.”

“Doing the right thing usually isn’t,” Chin said. “It’s not fair that you’re living in hiding, or that Grace lost a parent.”

Grace caught sight of them standing at the doors. She waved enthusiastically, and Danny smiled and waved back. She picked up her stuffies and bounded toward the house.

“I’ll head to the cabin for the night,” Chin said. “Enjoy your evening. Yell if you need anything.”

Danny left the security system disarmed for a moment -- though it made his fingers twitch. He heard the low rumble of Chin’s bike followed by the smooth movement of the garage door up, and then down again. Gracie’s footfalls were on the deck and he opened the door for her, smiling.

She launched into his arms, wrapping her arms around his neck.

“Danno, did you have a good doctor visit?” she asked. Her legs twined around his waist as he closed the door and reset the alarm.

“It was fine, Gracie,” he said. He kissed her check and she giggled as his scruff tickled her face.

“So can I go with you next time?” she asked. Her disappointment at not being included in the visit had been palpable -- no wonder Chin had deemed it necessary to at least let her explore her treehouse.

Danny hesitated. Chin had already vouched for both Steve and Kono, and it was terribly unfair to Grace to never leave the remote property. Keeping a child sequestered would raise its own suspicions.

“I’ll think about it,” Danny said. “Let me go to one more visit, and if it goes well, and I decide to stick with the acupuncture, then you can go with me on the third.”

Grace whooped in delight and Danny felt a pang of guilt and regret. Accompanying her father on a doctor’s visit should not be so special, so rare. Chin was right -- he needed to provide her with some semblance of normalcy. He would start with dinner.

“What should we make for dinner, Monkey?”

“Mac and cheese,” Grace said. “From the blue box.”

Danny took a deep breath as Grace skipped off toward the kitchen. One more day down. Countless more to go. He could do this -- he had to. One foot in front of the other, one breath, one heartbeat at a time, until the trial was over and he and Grace were free.


	3. Chapter 3

Steve took the long way home, the windows of his truck rolled down, filling the cab with fresh, fragrant air. He knew he would never tire of this, never tire of being back home, back on Oahu. Pulling into the driveway was something that at one point, he was sure he’d never do again -- he’d never take it for granted now. The house itself felt in turn far too empty and far too full of ghosts, but he couldn’t imagine living anywhere else. He was making peace with both the solitude and the presences he couldn’t quite shake. When Mary was well enough to be discharged, he would bring her here, where he could watch over her, protect her the way a brother should, care for her like she needed. He’d fill her life with sunshine and fresh air. It would help. It had to. 

He keyed in the alarm code and slipped inside the still house. Ignoring the boxes half-packed in his father’s office, gathering dust, he headed for the laundry room. A pair of worn board shorts were hanging neatly, just where he’d put them the night before, and the night before that. As he shucked his scrubs into the hamper and switched out for the boardies, he let his mind drift back to his childhood, to the days before everything went to hell. He remembered everything in shades of sunsets. The sun was starting to set now, and he felt the familiar hollow in his chest as he stepped out the back door and onto the beach, alone. 

The water was warm as he waded in without hesitation, arching his back and plunging under as soon as he was deep enough. He missed his morning swims, but he still couldn’t manage the colder morning water on sleep-stiffened muscles. Someday, he thought. Someday soon. He could feel his muscles responding to his movement through the water, tried to visualize bone and tendon knitting back together, seamlessly. Already his lung capacity was almost back to training level. He knew he should be thankful — beyond thankful — for the function that he had; hell, for surviving in the first place. But discharge papers aside, he was determined to restore his physical conditioning. 

The Hesse brothers had taken so much from him: his father, his career, his sister’s well-being. He’d managed, somehow, to come out the other side with his body and mind more or less intact — he’d be damned if he was going to give them one more inch. He pushed hard, and kept swimming.

*****

Grace polished off a second bowl of macaroni and cheese. Danny bit back an exclamation of delight and praise, even though relief flooded through him. Grace had always had her mother’s delicate features, but over the course of the past months he’d watched, agonized, as her cheeks hollowed and limbs thinned. But tonight, her cheeks were sun-kissed and while her knees were a bit scraped from her clambering about her treehouse, they no longer looked as painfully knobby. Chin was right; keeping her cooped up was not conducive to her mental or physical health. 

“Thanks, Danno,” she said, and started to skip away from the table.

“Excuse me, forgetting something?” Danny prompted.

“Oh. Sorry.” Grace came back and gathered her bowl and glass. She drained the last few swallows of juice and then carried her dishes to the sink. “May I read now?”

“Yep. Twenty minutes.”

“Thirty,” Grace countered. “I never finish a chapter in twenty, it’s not enough. Please, Danno?”

Danny hesitated. “Okay, if you can finish the chapter in thirty minutes, that’s fine, but no more.”

“Thanks!” Grace dashed away before he could overthink and change his mind.

He called after her. “And if you finish in twenty-five, put the book down, don’t start another chapter and then think you’ll talk me into more time.”

He pulled a locked briefcase out from the cabinet above the refrigerator and placed it on the table. He started to sit down, then returned to the cabinet and pulled down a bottle of wine. There was a time when he’d have been reaching for whiskey, but he’d been down that road already. Grace was his now, his alone, and his responsibility. The occasional glass of red wine or cold beer -- the local brew was, to his surprise, excellent -- were his only indulgences. He sighed as he got a solitary glass out of another cabinet in the well-appointed kitchen. Case files and trial prep would be his companions for the foreseeable future. His knee twinged as he settled in and selected a file, and he straightened it, wincing. His thoughts drifted to the acupuncture appointment from earlier in the day, and he tried to remember how Steve had managed to release some of the pain and stiffness with a firm press of his thumb. He tried — and failed — to replicate the motion. He took a sip of his wine, opened a file, and tried to forget the warm, comforting touch of those big hands.

*****

Steve cut through the water with barely a splash, until his shoulder seized sharply and suddenly, robbing him of breath and whiting out his vision. He choked on sea water and slipped under the surface. He kicked furiously, compensated with his left arm, then . . . stopped.

He let the pain crowd out all thought except one: he could just let go. The ocean would wrap around him, carry him away to a place with no more pain, no more loss.

_“I just wanted to stop hurting.”_

The memory of Mary’s voice, when he’d returned, finally, and Mamo had taken him to the hospital to visit her. The bandages were still fresh on her wrists. He’d asked her, that day, to keep going, keep living, promised her that he would be there for her.

He kicked, then, not frantically but smoothly, powerfully, muscle memory from drown-proofing SEAL training taking over. He broke the surface and pulled in a measured breath, and headed for the light shining through his kitchen window.

He had promises to keep.

By the time he reached the shallows, he was in agony; his hip flexor cramped along with his shoulder, his back strained with the awkward, lopsided motion through the rapidly cooling water. He longed to rest on the sand, let the gentle tide wash back and forth over him, like he’d done as a child -- but for the very real possibility that he wouldn’t be able to leverage himself up again.

He could imagine the headline: _Former Navy SEAL Drowns in Own Backyard_.

By the time he reached the house, the pain had settled into a bone-deep ache. He hauled himself wearily up the stairs, through the bedroom, and into the bathroom. Awkwardly, with one hand, he wrestled his swim trunks off and tossed them into the sink. He turned the shower on, the inconvenience of the slow hot water heater nullified by the anticipation of excellent water pressure. Not for the first time, he was thankful to live in an older house, with plumbing installed without regard to water conservation. He stood with his right side absorbing most of the pounding spray, willing his muscles to relax under the heat and pressure. He’d never be able to place a needle with his muscles cramped and knotted.

Like Danny’s knee, earlier . . . he let his thoughts drift. He’d never quite mastered the practice of meditation, not like the wizened practitioner in North Korea had tried to teach him, but he had learned to appreciate the value of letting his subconscious sift through the detritus of his mind. Tonight, that detritus seemed to include images of sunkissed gold and brilliantly blue eyes.

He blamed Kono.


	4. Chapter 4

“Hi, Mr. Wilson!”

Kono’s cheery greeting was accompanied by her usual brilliant smile, complete with dimples. Danny appreciated it, naturally. He was lonely, not deaf, dumb, and blind, and while he mourned the loss of Grace’s mother, their relationship had ended long before her murder. Besides, Kono was gorgeous, by any standard, and genuinely kind as well. Danny would dare anyone not to find her appealing. But it wasn’t Kono who was responsible for the unmistakable, undeniable low buzz of attraction he was currently experiencing -- no, that would be the responsibility of the tall, bronzed man standing behind her, with an equally genuine, if more subdued, smile.

“Be right with you, Mr. Wilson,” Steve said. “Just sign in with Kono, and I’ll grab your file and we’ll go right ahead.”

“Yeah, sorry I’m a few minutes late,” Danny said. He accepted the pen and clipboard from Kono. He was, in fact, an unfailingly punctual person, and it pained him to deliberately show up late for his requested last-appointment-of-the-day time slots. But it was the best way to ensure running into as few people as possible.

“Shootz, no worries,” Kono said. 

Steve was bending over to retrieve a folder from the bottom drawer of the file cabinet. 

Danny tried not to stare, even as he thanked all of the saints that his name -- even his fake one -- started with a letter close to the end of the alphabet, aiding and abetting his current view of one fantastic scrub-clad ass. Kono quietly cleared her throat, and Danny whipped his head toward her. Damn his Jersey pale skin -- he could feel a flush of embarrassment on his cheeks. 

“You’re sure you don’t want me to file this with your insurance?” Kono asked, blinking up at him innocently. 

“Ah, yes. I mean, no. I -- I’m sure, yes, thank you,” Danny said. 

Steve stood up, thankfully oblivious to the reason behind Kono’s smirk. 

“Since this is our last client, I’m going to head out,” Kono said. “I’m sure you’ve got it from here.”

“Thanks, Kono.” Steve nodded at her. “See you tomorrow. Mr. Wilson? We’ll go get started.”

“I’ll go ahead and lock up,” Kono announced. “And I’ve set the phone to automatically forward to the service. No interruptions.” She winked at them and grabbed her tote bag, heading toward the door. “Have fun, boys.”

Steve blinked at her retreating form for a long moment after she locked the door behind her.

“I’m, ah -- sorry about Kono,” he said slowly, turning away from Danny and gesturing with the file folder for Danny to follow him into the treatment room. “She’s . . . “

“Exuberant?” Danny offered.

“I was going to say a menace to society,” Steve mumbled, “but yeah, we can go with exuberant. I hope you weren’t offended.”

Danny bristled. So Steve was going to be one of those, was he? Assuming that an insinuation of a same-sex attraction was offensive?

“Offended? Because I’m a guy, and you’re a guy?” He stood in the doorway, arms folded over his chest.

Steve stopped, freezing in place, his hands stilling on the packets of sterilized needles that he’d pulled from the tidy cabinet. “Actually, I meant because you’re a new client, and I’m a medical professional.” His voice was clipped, almost prim. 

Danny winced at the deliberately blank expression on Steve’s face as he turned around. He’d put his foot in it. Steve gestured to the exam table, and Danny pressed himself up easily, his hands wrapping around the edge.

“I wasn’t. Offended.” Danny said.

“Okay. Well, I apologize. Kono’s young and new to this sort of position . . . “ Steve’s voice trailed off uncertainly, and Danny’s practiced eye and ear picked up on an almost-hidden trace of hurt and disappointment.

“Yeah, well, seriously. No offense. On, uh, either count.” Danny paused. “Professionally or . . . otherwise.” He could have sworn he saw a hint of a smile, as Steve turned to the sink to wash his hands.

“So, how’s the knee feeling since yesterday’s first treatment?” Steve asked. 

“Feels . . . less bound up in a knot,” Danny said. “It still hurts like a mother, but it didn’t pop when I got out of bed this morning.”

“That’s good but . . . “ Steve frowned slightly as he pressed strong fingers into the tendons and ligaments around Danny’s knee. “I’d have liked to have accomplished a reduction in pain, as well. Today I’ll focus more on pain and less on mobility. Go ahead and lie back on the table.”

Danny eased back onto his elbows as Steve’s hands wrapped easily around his ankles, lifting his legs onto the table, just as he had the day before. But today, Danny noticed, instead of standing over him to insert the needles, Steve had pulled up a rolling stool. 

“Your back still hurting?” Danny asked, without thinking.

Steve looked up at him, surprised.

 _Shit,_ Danny thought. _This is exactly what I’m supposed to be avoiding; getting into personal exchanges._ “You know how it is, pain recognizes pain,” he said, chuckling, trying to brush it off.

The searching look in Steve’s eyes told him that he’d probably failed.

“Yeah, I know how it is,” Steve said. One hand was still resting on Danny’s shin, the other made a shooing motion. “Go on, relax, head on the pillow there, buddy.”

Danny followed Steve’s instructions, feeling more vulnerable by the moment. Relinquishing control did not come naturally or easily for him in normal circumstances, and the recent months of living under his assumed identity kept every fiber of his being on high alert. Even as his eyes were focused on the ceiling above, he felt the weight of Steve’s gaze on him, and suddenly didn’t know what to do with his hands. He fidgeted a bit with the soft sheet covering the exam table, then tried to be still, forcing his fingers straight. He heard another chuckle from Steve, the sound of the stool moving a bit.

“You’re really bad at this,” Steve observed. His voice was over by the cabinet again, and Danny lifted his head, scowling in that direction. Steve was pulling a thick towel out of a funny looking box sitting next to the sink. “Put your head back down. Close your eyes.”

Danny fidgeted some more, feeling more exposed and then feeling ridiculous for _feeling_ exposed, and then there was darkness, and a gentle, warm weight across his eyes, a soothing scent drifting around him. He startled a bit as he felt Steve’s hands on his, turning them palms up, pressing into a spot just above his wrist on each hand. He felt his fingers go lax.

“Ok. Wow.” Danny blurted out, again, without thinking. It prompted another soft chuckle from Steve.

“Umm hmm,” Steve murmured. Danny felt warm, determined fingers pressing along his collarbone.

“Thought we were working on my knee,” he grumbled.

“Can’t work if you’re wound too tight,” Steve scolded. His fingers rested in the hollow of the juncture of Danny’s neck and shoulder, pressing insistently. Danny felt a momentary flash of panic -- unable to see, strong hands in a perfect position to choke him --

“Danny. Relax.” Steve’s fingers pressed a millimeter deeper, and Danny felt the tension drain from his neck and shoulders. “Good.” Steve sounded pleased. “Now, I can get somewhere with your knee.”

Danny let his mind drift, vaguely aware of various sensations around his knee -- some not entirely pleasant, but none painful. By the time Steve stood, resting a hand on his good knee, he was almost asleep.

“I want you to just stay here a bit, stay relaxed,” Steve murmured. “I’ll be back in to check on you, just yell if you need anything. I’ll be in my office right across the hall.”

Danny assumed he made some sort of assenting noise, or at least imagined he did, because he heard the door open and close softly. He felt an unfamiliar sensation flood through him. It took him a few long moments to identify it: peace.

*****

He wasn’t sure how much time had passed when he heard the door open and close again, quietly. 

“How’s that feeling, Mr. Wilson?”

It took him a split second to realize that he was coming close to failing to respond to his own -- supposed -- name. Thankfully, he had an easy out -- this time.

“Wow, I was almost asleep,” he said. It wasn’t entirely untruthful, and from the grin on Steve’s face, wasn’t an undesired effect, either.

“Excellent,” Steve said. He pulled the rolling stool up to the table and sat down, bent over Danny’s knee. He pulled one needle out, carefully. “So, you . . . are you finding your way around okay? Being new to the island.” He wasn’t looking at Danny. Another needle slipped painlessly out of place and into a small basin by Danny’s ankle.

“For the most part,” Danny said. “I’m spending a small fortune at the hardware store.” It was true; although the ATF and FBI were footing the bill. “I should have realized how much more expensive things would be on the island.”

“As opposed to . . .” Steve left his sentence open for Danny to fill in the blanks.

“Well, Jersey, first,” Danny lied smoothly. It explained the remnants of an accent that he couldn’t always hide. “But then, you know, all over. Most recently from Chicago.” Or so his background check would lead anyone to believe. Daniel Wilson, real estate developer, single father, giving his only child a change of scene from the brutal winters and big city life. It was a solid cover; both agencies had made sure of it.

Steve murmured an absent acknowledgement. “I could show you a few places when we’re done here; more for the locals. You’ll get much better prices.”

Danny hesitated. He was supposed to be avoiding making connections. But, it would raise suspicions if he declined. Who would deliberately choose to pay tourist prices for goods, if they were planning to live here and operate a business?

“Yeah? That would, ah . . . yeah. That would be great. I just need to contact Mr. Kelly, see if he’s willing to stay longer, keep an eye on Grace again.”

Steve’s hand faltered, for the first time, over a needle.

“Grace?” he asked, ducking his head back down over Danny’s knee.

“My daughter,” Danny said. He tensed. Was he revealing too much?

Steve’s free hand rested warm and heavy just below his knee. “It hadn’t come up. I didn’t realize you had a little girl.”

Danny recovered quickly. The cover story was so interwoven with the truth, it was getting easy. “Yeah, I’m a single dad. Seemed like time to get out of the city, the cold, give her a change of scene, you know?”

Steve looked up, then, and smiled. “I can show you some places she might like, too.”

“We’ll see,” Danny said. “For right now, I’d just love to be able to buy a box of nails without taking out a second mortgage.”

*****

Chin was, of course, more than happy to stay with Grace. And much to Danny’s surprise, there were no encrypted warning texts about being careful, remembering his cover, not giving away too much. Still, he was wary, on guard, as he climbed up into Steve’s truck.

He relaxed as they drove in the opposite direction of the city. 

“So, you grew up here?” he asked. Keep the conversation focused on Steve, and he should be just fine.

“Yeah. I was away for a while,” Steve said.

“Chin mentioned you were in the military.”

“Navy. I was injured in Afghanistan, discovered acupuncture during my recovery, decided to make a second career of it.”

Danny nodded. “Interesting choice, but I get it.” That certainly wasn’t a lie. He had no idea if he’d be able to return to field work after the trial was behind him. Much depended on him regaining full function of his knee. 

“Here we are,” Steve said. He pulled the truck off the road, into a gravel lot. Several picnic tables were scattered around in the grassy area, before the landscape shifted into rocky, pebbled sand. Beyond, Danny could see the churn of the water; grayer, rougher than the scenes depicted on the postcards and travel brochures. A handful of surfers were out, riding the waves with impressive velocity before diving effortlessly into the breaking surf and starting all over again.

Steve followed his line of vision and chuckled. “I told you, I was going to get you set up with locals. Come ‘ere.”

He led the way to a nondescript shack; no signage, just a line of surfboards leaning against the side, and tidy rows of snacks, beverages, and a few magazine stands visible behind the counter. 

“Stevie!” A large man came around the counter and towards them. Danny stood, feeling awkward, as Steve and the man reached for each other and then pressed their foreheads together for a long moment. “Where you been at, keiki?”

“Working,” Steve said, laughing. “Kono, she runs a tight ship. Always making appointments for new patients.”

“And running off to the waves and leaving you every time the tide comes in.”

“Of course,” Steve said. “Mamo, speaking of patients, this is Danny Wilson. He’s just moved here from Chicago -- taking over the old Keana Farms place.”

Danny was relieved when Mamo held out his hand for a normal handshake.

“Welcome to the islands, Danny,” the older man said. His face was weathered but not wrinkled -- Danny could only place him as older than forty and younger than eighty. He had a timeless quality about him; the sort of aura that put you immediately at ease. But Danny wasn’t supposed to be at ease. He was starting to wonder if coming had been a mistake.

“Danny is fixing up the place, taking up where the previous owners left off,” Steve said. “He’s having a bit of trouble getting fair prices on hardware. Can you help him out?”

“Of course,” Mamo said.

Danny looked skeptically at the shack.

Mamo and Steve shared a gentle laugh, and while Danny knew he was the subject of their amusement, he felt included, just the same.

“Yeah, no, that’s not a hardware store,” Steve said. “But Mamo has connections with all of the local suppliers.”

“You bring your lists to Stevie, the things you need will be delivered to you, fair prices,” Mamo said. “You have my word.”

“That’s -- that’s very generous of you,” Danny said. Delivery? That would save him countless exposures, eliminate a lot of absences from Grace. Fixing up the property was a key part of his cover, but it made minimizing his interactions a challenge.

“Any friend of Stevie’s is ohana,” Mamo said.

“Family,” Steve added, for Danny’s benefit.

“Well, again, thank you,” Danny said. He shook Mamo’s hand and wondered, fleetingly, if everyone on the island was as oversized as Steve and his friend. 

“It’s the island way,” Mamo assured him. He turned to Steve. “Little Mary, she doing okay? You bringing her home soon, yeah?”

A cloud seemed to pass over Steve’s face. “I hope so. We better go, I need to get Danny back to his car. Thanks, Mamo.”

Mamo enveloped Steve in a bear hug, and reached out an arm for Danny as well.

“Oh, okay . . . we’re hugging now, okay.” As Mamo’s arm wrapped around him, pressing him into the warmth of Steve’s body along with his own, Danny had an overwhelming longing for his family, his friends, the warmth of companionship and -- okay, he was only human -- maybe something more. He was glad for the bulk of Mamo, hiding his face, giving him a moment to pull himself out of those thoughts.

The sun was setting as they got back in the truck, and Steve pulled smoothly out of the parking lot and onto the road, glancing over at Danny. He had the look of unanswered questions on his face.

“Mary?” Danny asked, careful to try to keep as much of the conversation focused on Steve as possible. Not that Steve’s monosyllabic answers were making that easy so far.

“My sister,” Steve said, his face clouding again. “She’s . . . not well.”

“I’m very sorry to hear that,” Danny said. It wasn’t hard to tell that there was a lot left unsaid, and it piqued Danny’s interest immediately. But it also wasn’t hard to tell that Steve wasn’t ready to discuss it. The silence stretched out between them.

“So . . . your daughter,” Steve started. Danny sensed that he was treading cautiously. “I didn’t get to show you a couple places she might like.”

“That’s okay. It’s getting late, I should get back.”

“Yeah. I have a strip of beach behind my house. The sand is soft, there’s no drop off, barely any breakers. If she likes to swim, play in the water . . . anyway, your next appointment, I’d be happy for you to come to my home office. I need to check your knee’s stability on uneven surfaces, show you some hydrotherapy exercises you can do at home. And your little girl would be welcome to play around in the water, stay as long as you like. If you think she’d enjoy that.”

Danny’s loneliness warred against his cautiousness. Chin Ho had vouched for Steve, and he’d promised Grace an outing. This seemed safe enough but . . . could he risk it? And was he risking it for Grace, or for himself? He realized Steve was looking at him, studying him.

“Eyes on the road,” he objected, pointing. 

“I work half days in the office on Fridays, see patients in my home office on Friday afternoons,” Steve said. “I’ll have Kono call you tomorrow with the address.”

Danny relaxed a bit. He could run the idea by Chin, and he’d have a full day to come up with a plausible excuse if he decided against it.

“Sure, that’s fine,” he said, as they pulled back into the small parking lot in front of Steve’s practice. “Thanks for setting me up with a contact for supplies. I appreciate it, really.”

Steve’s face lit up in an easy smile, crinkling at the corners of his eyes, which Danny still hadn’t decided were blue or green. In the low light, they looked a bit gray, like the rougher surf they’d just seen. 

_“Get a grip,”_ he told himself sternly. This was not the place, and now definitely was not the time . . . excellent ass and changeable eyes notwithstanding. 

He’d already lost count of how many lies he’d told the man sitting next to him -- and there was no counting the lies he’d have to tell yet, until the case was over. And by then . . . well. If there would have been a place and time, the deception would have built a wall between them.

Danny felt a flare of anger at the man who had taken not only his past, but apparently his future as well.


	5. Chapter 5

Kono was grinning like an absolute loon. 

“You’re grinning like an absolute loon,” Steve informed her. “Very unprofessional. Not to mention unattractive.”

“Lies,” Kono said cheerfully, “because _you_ asked _me_ to call a _patient_ and give him _your_ home address, so you can’t call me unprofessional, that’s a pot kettle scenario. And also I have it on good authority that I am a beautiful ray of sunshine. Mamo says so; even if certain patients of yours seem to be more interested in your ass than in mine. And if you give me any sass talk, I won’t tell you what time Mr. Wilson said he’d be at your ‘home office’,” she finished, rolling her eyes and air-quoting the last bit. 

“I’ve always intended to see patients out of a home office,” Steve insisted. “Hydrotherapy speeds healing and strengthening. Eventually, I plan to see patients there on both Tuesday and Friday afternoons. I just this week finished setting it up, that’s all.”

“Just this week. When did you set it up, exactly?”

Steve rubbed the back of his neck and studied the calendar on Kono’s desk. “Last night.”

Kono laughed, and Steve gave up and laughed with her; that was the thing about Kono, her joy was absolutely irresistible. 

“Okay, but I really do intend to hold office hours there,” he said. “I’ve got an ideal set-up; my dad already had turned one end of the dining room into a home office, and the sunroom is the perfect place for a treatment area.”

“And that would be why one of the tables is missing out of one of the treatment rooms here?”

“We aren’t busy enough yet that we need to have two rooms.”

Kono sobered. “Boss, speaking of which . . . are you sure you can afford to keep me on? I know with the equipment, and the rent on this place . . . and Mary’s treatment, I know that has to add up . . .“

“I couldn’t have even started without you, Kono. And you’re much better with the phone calls, and greeting the patients. It’s fine. I still have funds set aside from when I got medically discharged, and Mary . . . we have my father’s life insurance. And he made sure she had a health insurance policy, so . . . it’s fine. Really.”

“It’s going to get better, Steve,” Kono said softly. “All of it -- your practice, Mary . . . you’ll see.”

“You have that on good authority, too?”

“Mamo came and blessed this place when you opened, right?”

Steve nodded, smiling at the memory. He’d floundered at first, returning to the island -- barely healed, overwhelmed at the responsibility of trying to care for Mary, uncertain of life outside the military. Applying for his credentials and opening a practice . . . it was something he’d never imagined doing -- wouldn’t have imagined doing, if Mamo hadn’t told him, in no uncertain terms, to set aside his doubts and move forward. 

Kono was speaking again, and he pulled himself back to the present.

“. . . you go, see? If Mamo blessed it, it’s all good, brah. Now, get out of my way, these insurance claims aren’t going to file themselves.”

*****

Danny stared out the window. He was looking toward Gracie’s treehouse, but he wasn’t seeing her, pigtails bobbing as she flitted around in the mid-morning sun. Instead, he was seeing her dark hair, blood-soaked against too pale skin. 

“Danny? Danny, hey.”

He could tell from Chin’s voice that he’d spoken to him a few times. Danny rubbed a hand over his face.

“Yeah. Sorry, I was . . . “ He paused, and shrugged. “I don’t know what the hell I was doing, if we’re being honest.”

Chin poured two cups of coffee and brought them to the kitchen table. Like all of the furniture left by the previous owners, it was cheerfully worn and comfortable. He pushed a cup of in front of Danny and pointed out the window.

“Grace is okay, Danny, and we’re going to keep it that way. Here. A copy of the most recent report on Housand’s movements.” He handed Danny a file, and leaned back in his chair, sipping the rich kona brew and watching Danny expectantly.

Danny flipped open the file and began reading the contents with a practiced, focused eye for the details. He absently sipped his coffee, his eyes never once leaving the page before him. Finally, he looked up at Chin.

“He’s getting bolder,” he said. “We’ve got him on extortion, now, as well as trafficking arms. When’s the take-down?”

Chin sighed and leaned forward.

“What the hell are they waiting for?!” Danny exclaimed. He stood abruptly, his chair scraping behind him. He paced the floor, hands cutting through the air in frustration. “Why aren’t they taking him down now, as we speak? Damn it, Chin, we have enough to put him away in international court.”

“They’ve decided to try to build the case for human trafficking as part of the take-down and arrest charges,” Chin said. “They want to close every loophole. Make the case airtight; send him away for the maximum time, for all charges.”

Danny gripped the back of his chair. “I get it, I do . . . but that’s been impossible to prove so far, and the longer that maniac is walking free, the better the odds are that he and his people figure out that two of those three coffins you buried were empty.”

“I know, Danny.”

“I thought the plan was to nail him on the arms trade, build the case for the other charges once he was behind bars.”

“I know, Danny.”

“Then why in God’s name isn’t he locked up, right now?!”

“The order came from the top.”

Danny rolled his eyes in disbelief. “Your director or mine?”

“That hasn’t been made clear.”

“Plausible deniability,” Danny muttered. He was silent for a long moment. “I don’t suppose there’s any use pleading my cause?”

Chin shook his head. “They’ve already inserted an undercover into what we believe is his west coast operation. With any luck . . .”

“With any luck, we won’t lose another agent. Damn it.”

“They’re saying a month, six weeks tops.”

Danny sat his empty coffee cup next to the sink with more force than was strictly necessary, then put the file in the locked cabinet above the refrigerator.

“I know it’s hard waiting,” Chin said. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”

“You’re just the messenger,” Danny sighed. “I’ll spend the days working on the property. It’s got to look like we’re working hard to get this place up and running. It’s going to look suspicious otherwise.”

“You sure you’re up to it?” Chin asked. He tilted his head at Danny’s knee. “It hasn’t been so long since you were on crutches.”

“I almost hate to admit it, but the acupuncture seems to be helping. Oh. Um, Steve suggested I go to his home office for tomorrow’s appointment. Something about hydrotherapy?”

“I’m not surprised,” Chin said. “The ocean definitely has healing properties. There’s a reason so many physical therapists use pools. And if you believe the locals . . . the islands’ waters heal in ways that can’t be explained by science or medicine.”

“More hocus pocus. I never know whether or not to take stuff like that seriously,” Danny grumbled. “Doesn’t matter -- I think I better not go.”

“I disagree. First, you have yet to decide whether or not you want to return to being a field agent. If you want to keep that door open, my friend, you’d better work on getting back to being fit for duty. And second . . . look, Danny . . . “ Chin trailed off into silence.

“I’m looking,” Danny prompted. “What am I looking at?”

“Four, six weeks -- we both know that’s optimistic. This could drag out. You . . . you need to establish some human connection. Both for the sake of your cover and . . . well, for your sanity.”

“I can’t expose Grace. And I’ve got a human connection -- you.”

“Your cover is solid. And I’m honored to be your friend, but Danny, it wouldn’t be reasonable for a newcomer to the island, trying to establish a business, to be completely isolated. It doesn’t read true to life. And beyond that, it’s psychologically damaging. At some point, you’re going to have to take Gracie off this property, or we’re going to have to sell some kind of convoluted cover story to Child Protective Services.”

“I just -- I don’t trust -- I don’t know if --”

Chin arched an eyebrow. “You don’t know if -- what?”

Danny sighed, then blurted out what was on his mind. “I don’t know if I trust myself to make the decision to go to Steve’s house as purely part of my knee rehab and my cover.” As soon as he’d finished the sentence, he’d answered his own question. He groaned and threw his hands up in the air. “How is this my life?”

Chin, to his credit, didn’t laugh. He did, however, smile kindly. “Danny, from everything I know, both from working with his old man, and from Kono raving about him -- Steve’s a good guy. Served his country, got injured in Afghanistan, came home to rebuild his life. You actually have a lot in common. It’s perfectly reasonable that you’d find him a . . . friend.”

Danny groaned again. “Oh, Lord. Kono?”

Chin couldn’t hide the twinkle in his eyes. “She’s particular about patient confidentiality. But she did bemoan the fact that the attractive men in her life seem oblivious to her charms and instead gravitate toward each other.”

“That’s why you weren’t surprised when I asked you to stay at the main house with Grace for a while last night?”

“Not only was I not surprised, I was glad. Danny, I know you love that little girl with all your heart. But man, you’ve got to make room in your life for other people. Housand will eventually go to trial, I swear to God. Your people skills are sketchy enough, you can’t get completely out of practice -- we’ll never be able to reintegrate you into society. Go. Take Grace. Seriously, if you don’t give yourself -- and her -- a break from this place, you’ll go even nuttier than you already are.”

Danny chewed on his lower lip, considering. “You’ll stay here, on the property, while I’m gone?”

“Absolutely. I’ll reset the alarm for the house, the garage, and the gate, the minute you pull through.”

“She’s asked me when she gets to build a sandcastle,” Danny said. “I’ll go tomorrow -- just me. If I get a good read on the situation, I’ll consider taking her the next time. Okay? And my people skills are just fine, I’ll have you know . . . “

*****

The last patient of the day left, her neck and shoulder pain considerably relieved. Steve cleaned up the supplies and treatment room with a sense of satisfaction, then checked the rest of the small bungalow-turned-office. The tiny blue and white kitchen, perfect for storing the necessities to fuel Kono’s caffeine addiction and his wide variety of herbal tea, was sparkling clean. Kono’s desk, in the reception area that was formerly the living room, was clear and tidy; cheerful yellow pencils arranged like a bouquet in an oversized hibiscus-print mug. His Navy training -- not to mention strict parents -- had made Steve into a bit of a stickler for tidiness, and he was thankful that Kono, for all her youth and surfer mentality, took personal pride in keeping the place spotless. 

As he stepped out the front door, locking it behind him, he tried to convince himself that this would be enough, that this could be his life now. He climbed into his truck and sighed. If he was being honest with himself . . . it felt empty. He shoved that thought aside, and turned his thoughts -- and his truck -- toward Maluhia Treatment Center. Whatever else his life held for him now, it definitely held Mary.

His thoughts drifted back to his arrival back on the island. Mamo was to pick him up at the airport, and he was there . . . with Duke Lukela . . .

_He limped toward them. The long flight on a military transport had been agonizing; his muscles were thrumming with pain and tension, his freshly healed skin still pulling and tender over aching joints. But he straightened his shoulders instinctively as he approached, trying to figure out why someone from HPD was waiting to greet him._

_“I didn’t expect an HPD rep,” he said. “But I thank you for coming, anyway.”_

_Mamo put a hand on his shoulder. “This isn’t about your dad, keiki.”_

_Steve looked from Mamo to Duke, exhaustion slowing his thought processes. It took him a moment to realize --_

_“Mary?” he asked, his heart jumping into his throat. “Mamo, I just talked to you before I got on the plane, you were going to go tell her that I was coming home. You told her, right? She knows?”_

_Mamo and Duke exchanged a glance._

_“I want to see her. Take me home, I want to see Mary.” He felt panic rise in his chest._

_“Steve,” Duke said, “We’ll take you to Mary, son. We’ll explain on the way.”_

_Mamo kept his hand on Steve’s shoulder and nudged him gently toward the exit. “Stevie, I went to tell Mary the good news. I got to your father’s -- your house, and I knocked on the door. Lights were on, her little car was there, but no answer. I think, maybe she’s outside, so I went around the back. She wasn’t there, either.”_

_Steve bit his tongue, trying to be patient and let Mamo tell him. But his mind was screaming, on a loop, Mary Mary Mary Mary . . ._

_“I got worried, so I went inside, and I called for her. She didn’t answer. I found her . . . keiki, she was sitting in the spot where your dad died. I called 911, right away, and --”_

_“911? What? Why?!”_

_They stopped at Duke’s black and white, parked in a priority space just outside the exit._

_“Steve, it appears that your sister attempted to commit suicide,” Duke said gently. “Had Mamo not gone in to check . . . but, he did, and he called for a bus and administered first aid. He saved your sister’s life, there’s no doubt about that.”_

_Steve’s mind was reeling. Mamo had said that Mary had been in rough shape since their father’s death and Steve’s disappearance; that there’d been a few time’s she’d called Mamo to drive her home, when she’d been out drinking . . . but this . . . he couldn’t wrap his brain around it._

_“But I called you,” he said, “I came home.” It didn’t make sense, that something like this would happen, while he was literally on his way back to her. Suddenly, he was sixteen again, his father sending them away to the mainland, everything falling apart just as it was supposed to be coming together. “It’s not fair,” he blurted._

_Mamo grabbed him in a massive hug. “Stevie, she’s going to be okay. She’s got you back now, you’ll see.”_

_“Come on,” Duke said, opening the front passenger door for Steve. “I’ll take you to Queen’s.”_

Maluhia Treatment Center was vastly different from Queen’s. It was small, private, with simple but well-maintained grounds, and staff outfitted in comfortable street clothes; not scrubs and white lab jackets. Steve signed in at the reception desk, which looked more like a lobby for a bed and breakfast than for a mental health facility.

“Mary had a very good day today,” Rosa said, beaming up at him. “She asked about you a few times.”

“And she --” Steve paused, hoping he wasn’t reading too much into Rosa’s comment.

“Oh, yes, she absolutely knew you were alive, “ Rosa assured him. “She wanted to know if you planned to visit this evening, as usual.”

“That’s good,” Steve said. “That’s really good, right?”

“Definitely,” Rosa said firmly. “She’s outside on the lanai at the end of the wing. Just check in with me when you leave, so we can see to her evening meds.”

Steve nodded and loped down the hall, anxious to see Mary, to let Mary see him. The first weeks, at Queen’s, she’d struggled to accept that Steve was alive -- her mind clinging to what she had been told was reality: that Steve was missing after having been caught in a firefight, on or about the same day her father had been murdered, and that the Navy had finally given up and declared him dead.

“You’re not real,” she’d whispered, over and over again, in a monotone that had frightened him. But not this evening. As he went through the doors toward her, she looked up from a crossword puzzle book and beamed at him.

“Steve!”

“Hey, Mare,” he said, bending and engulfing her tiny frame in his arms. “Rosa said you had a good day.”

“Dr. Wollcot and I talked about discharge,” Mary said. “He’s tapering off everything except the sleep aid and the clozapine. When I’m down to just two prescriptions, he says I’ll be ready to go home. To stay.”

“Mary, that’s wonderful,” Steve said. He sat down next to her, holding her hands in his. The bandages on her wrists were gone, the scars growing fainter every day. He traced over one gently with his thumb.

“I don’t want you to have to worry about me,” Mary said. “I’m not confused now; I know for sure that you’re alive, and here. And I’m going to stay clean, too, I swear it. No more drugs; no more drinking. But I don’t know what to do. You know -- for a job, or whatever. I’m not good at anything.”

“You can be good at anything you want to be, Mary. We’ll figure it out, one step at a time. Look, it’s . . . it’s all new to me, too, okay? We’ll figure it out together.”

“You figured out the acupuncture, though,” Mary said. “I don’t have anything like that. How’s it going, anyway?”

“The practice?”

“Yeah, tell me about it. I want to hear.”

Steve rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s going . . . good, yeah. Saw a new patient today. A haole. Sticks out like a sore thumb.”

“Hmm.” Mary tilted her head, studying him. “Or maybe she just caught your eye?”

Steve took a deep breath. He wasn’t in the Navy anymore, and even so, DADT had been repealed. And if he was going to help Mary rebuild a new life, if he expected her to open up to him, he had to set the example.

“He. He kind of caught my eye, yeah,” he said softly, studying Mary’s face for her reaction.

“Oh.” She smiled at him. “Okay.”

“You’re . . . you’re okay with it?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Just . . . I don’t know. Mom and Dad, they . . . I don’t think they would have been okay with it.”

Mary considered that for a few moments. Steve could sense her trying to arrange her thoughts, and he waited patiently. 

“Aunt Deb will be completely fine with it,” Mary said, finally. “And honestly, I was too young to have any read on what Mom and Dad would have thought. It doesn’t really matter, now, anyway. And it wouldn’t matter, ever, to me.”

“Thanks, Mare.”

She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. “Do I get to see pictures? Or does that violate patient confidentiality?”

*****

Danny had never been a sound sleeper; if his mother was to be believed, not even as a toddler; and by high school, he was a confirmed insomniac. He’d learned to adapt, to get by on little sleep, and to catch sleep when he could. The odd night hours were suited for stake-outs, for quiet, uninterrupted reviews of case files, and getting up with a colicky baby.

He was awake, looking over the most recent file on Housand, when he heard the sound from Grace’s room. Sock-footed and silent, he was at her door, hand on his sidearm, before he realized it was simply the familiar sound of Grace’s voice.

“Danno.” Her voice sounded so small. He opened the door cautiously, automatically clearing the room.

“Grace, I’m here, Monkey. What’sa matter?”

“Danno, my head hurts. Bad.”

As much as Danny hated her lingering headaches, it was easier to cope with those than with her nightmares. He felt guilty for the fleeting thought of relief: his baby shouldn’t have to cope with _either_. He scooped her up in his arms, his hand cradling her head as she tucked her face into his neck.

“You gonna throw up?” he murmured.

She shook her head minutely. “Just hurts.”

“Okay, Danno’s got you,” he soothed. “Let’s get some crackers, and some medicine, and then we’ll snuggle in on the couch, how’s that?”

“‘Kay, Danno.”

He shifted Grace to his hip, one arm wrapped securely around her waist, her legs wrapped tight around him. He knew that she would soon be too big to cling to him in the way that had prompted her nickname. He held on just a little bit tighter while he grabbed a box of saltines and Grace’s bottle of medication.

They settled on the couch and went through a familiar routine. Grace leaned against Danny, her eyes closed, while he coaxed her to nibble her way through a cracker. When she finished, he poured her medication into its measuring cup. She held it with shaky fingers, and he wrapped his hand around hers, steadying it and lifting it to her lips. She slurped up the syrupy liquid and pulled a face.

“It’s yucky,” she mumbled.

“I know, Monkey,” he said, kissing the top of her head. He settled himself into the corner of the couch and pulled her into his lap. She snuggled against him, her face scrunched in pain. He gently rubbed her temples and the back of her neck. He lost any sense of time as he held her, feeling all but helpless against her pain. Finally, he felt her muscles relax as her mouth dropped slightly open. 

He waited a few more minutes, then lifted her into his arms and carried her down the hall. She startled and whimpered as he placed her gently on her bed, her tiny hands reaching out blindly. 

“Shh, you’re okay, baby,” he murmured, stroking her hair away from her face and tucking a light blanket securely around her. 

He stood in her doorway for a few long minutes, watching her sleep in the soft glow of her nightlight. Finally, he sighed and went to his own room, robotically going through the motions of getting ready for bed. Sleep, when it finally came, was fitful, and filled with the sounds of screams and grinding metal.


	6. Chapter 6

Danny yawned and finished off the last of his thermos of coffee as his GPS led him to a quiet residential neighborhood. The automated voice announced his arrival at his destination as he pulled in front of an unassuming house. He could see a worn stone walkway to the front door, starting beneath a pleasantly shabby looking trellis. He turned off the ignition and chewed on his lip for a moment.

“I think this might be a bad idea,” he muttered to himself. Still, he turned off the ignition and pocketed his keys as he got out of the car. He followed the walk to a front porch and rang the doorbell. He could hear it ring on the other side of the door, but no movement. No answer.

Silence.

He shuffled his feet and rang again.

Still no answer. But the faded lettering on the mailbox read “McGarrett”, and he knew he had the time right. Curious, he stepped off the porch and circled around the side of the house, making his way across the back lawn in time to see a dripping Steve grabbing a towel from a worn, wooden chair.

“Hello?” Danny called out.

Steve looked up and smiled. “Mr. Wilson. Sorry, I must have lost track of time swimming.”

“No problem,” Danny said. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his board shorts and walked toward the chairs. He watched as Steve toweled off and then quickly discarded the towel for a rash guard. He pulled it over his head, but not before Danny caught a glimpse of a web of scarring covering much of his ribcage. He glanced away quickly, while Steve’s head was still tangled in the garment.

“I thought you were going to bring your little girl,” Steve said.

“Maybe next time. She wasn’t feeling well last night; I didn’t want to push it.”

“Yeah, okay. How’s the knee feeling today?”

“Still sore, but definitely not as swollen.” Danny rocked back on his heels as Steve crouched in front of him, reaching out and probing his knee.

“It’s an improvement,” Steve said, nodding in satisfaction. “We won’t overdo it today; I don’t want to create any inflammation. But I do want to see how you do with unstable terrain. Sand is a good test. Let’s just walk, down closer to the water where the sand is somewhat packed. We’ll work up to loose sand over the next few weeks.”

They walked at a steady pace, with Steve glancing shrewdly at Danny’s knee every now and then. Danny thought that some of the glances lingered . . . drifted. He didn’t mind; it gave him the chance to sneak a few stolen glances at the line of Steve’s powerful shoulders, at the colorful ink, swirling tantalizingly at the edges of his sleeves.

Inevitably, they caught each other out, and their eyes locked. 

To Danny’s surprise, Steve glanced away first. 

“We should head back,” he said. “It’s never a good idea to go so far that your knee starts to hurt -- it forces you to push it way too long and too hard to get back.”

“Yeah,” Danny said, clearing his throat. “So, this is a pretty amazing beach-front situation you have going here. Do you ever get tired of all the sand?”

Steve laughed. Danny thought it sounded like he hadn’t done that, in a while, and he looked up to see Steve’s face alight in the afternoon sun, glinting off a few strands of silver at his temples that he’d never noticed before.

“Actually, no. I do not get tired of the sand here -- I missed it.”

“Even in Afghanistan?” Danny winced as soon as he said it. “Sorry. That was rude. Chin just mentioned that you’d been injured there. I didn’t mean to pry.”

“It’s okay. The sand in Afghanistan is very different. So yeah, I always missed home. More than I realized, until I got back, when my dad -- died.”

Danny felt like an ass. Trying so hard to keep conversation away from his own life was making him pushy. 

“Again -- sorry. Chin told me about your dad, too; I’m so sorry for your loss. I didn’t mean to bring up a painful subject.”

Steve took a deep breath. “It’s okay, really. He was a good man . . . apparently. I feel like I actually didn’t know him as an adult.”

“Chin speaks highly of him.”

“How did you meet Chin?”

The cover was practiced. It slid easily off Danny’s tongue. “I asked the mortgage broker, actually. He knew Chin, thought he’d be interested in the position, since he had left HPD for the mainland for a while, and he’d heard through the family that Chin was thinking of coming back and doing private security.” Simple, reliable, believable; since everyone on Oahu was “family”, as far as Danny could tell. “Is everyone on this island literally related?”

“If not literally, then figuratively,” Steve said, shrugging. “Not a lot of secrets here. Your little girl will be surrounded by more aunties and playmates than you’ll know what to do with. Seriously, Kono can get her set up; meet some of the kids she’ll be going to school with.”

Danny felt a low thrum of panic starting deep in the pit of his stomach. Steve’s words reverberated in his mind. _No secrets here._ This had been a mistake. The line from Chin to Kono didn’t end with Steve -- he had the sense that Steve could be trusted; that he already trusted him, inexplicably but implicitly, all the same. But it wasn’t just Steve: it was the whole damn island and this bizarre network of cousins and uncles and aunties . . . any one of whom could have one -- just one -- connection to Housand. 

Any connection was an unacceptable risk. 

“I appreciate the extended office hours, but I better get going,” Danny said, as they arrived back at the chairs behind Steve’s house.

Steve stopped short. “But -- we haven’t even done your treatment yet. This was just to warm up the muscle, let me see your range of motion, and then I was going to --”

“I understand, but, ah, like I said, my little girl wasn’t feeling well last night, so -- yeah, so I’m going to go ahead and head out. Thank you, for, you know, the motion range and everything. I can send a check for today’s visit to the office, or -- yeah, I’ll check in with Kono about that.”

Danny could feel Steve’s confused gaze on him as he quickly shoved his feet in his flip flops -- no, _slippahs_ \-- and headed around the side of the house back to his car. 

“Shit, shit, shit,” he muttered to himself. He slid into the driver’s seat and looked at himself in the rear view mirror. “Daniel Williams, you are an ass and an idiot.”

He sighed and pulled out of the driveway, before giving in to the growing temptation to launch himself back to Steve’s backyard and tell him the whole exhausting story. He found himself driving a little slower than usual back to the property . . . lost in thought, distracted, and trying to pull himself together before facing Chin and Grace and putting on his usual upbeat facade. As he rounded a curve, an overlook caught his eye. He’d missed it on the drive to Steve’s -- the traffic had been heavier then, and he’d been concentrating on the GPS. But now it was vacant, and on impulse, he pulled in and parked. He sat in the car for a few long minutes, looking out over the water. Anxiety, his ever-present companion, began to edge toward panic.

“Fuck it,” he said, pocketing his keys and getting out. The edge of the overlook had a sturdy stone wall, and he sat down gingerly, because wouldn’t it be just his luck that gravity would succeed where Housand had failed.

“Okay, I’m gonna admit,” he continued talking to himself, “that I’m losing my mind, out here talking to myself, but that also, okay, this is arguably the most beautiful scenery I have ever seen, in my entire life.”

He admitted to himself, though not out loud -- because really, he better not keep doing that -- that he was also the loneliest he had ever been, in his entire life. He sighed, and then snapped a picture, so he could show Grace. He’d bring her here, soon. 

Yeah, he thought. He’d share it with Grace -- and that would have to be enough.


	7. Chapter 7

Steve stood on the front porch long after the Camaro disappeared around the corner of the street. It had been the best day he’d had since . . . well. For a long, very long time. And it had come easily, he thought. Nothing had felt forced or awkward, at least not until the subject of Chin and Kono came up. He sighed and walked inside, locking the door behind him. The house was quiet, the corners dark with shadow. While Danny had been there, everything had seemed lighter, fuller somehow. Now the silence buzzed in his ears like white noise.

He robotically cleaned up the unused supplies he’d neatly arranged next to the treatment table, and locked up the kitchen door. He remembered a time when the doors stayed unlocked, the windows wide open to let the fragrant island breeze fill the house. After his mom died, his dad had started keeping things closed, locked. The windows, the doors . . . himself. Steve remembered the stifling quiet in those days, too, how it made him long to get out, even while furious for being set away. The military preparatory high school felt like both an escape and a prison. But by his senior year, he had thrown himself into the culture headlong and never looked back -- and he’d had no regrets, until that fateful day on the wrong side of the DMZ. Since then, he’d second guessed many things . . . just as he stood now, second-guessing having allowed a patient to get under his skin. He sighed as he turned off the kitchen light and headed upstairs, where, frustrated and out of sorts, he climbed into bed, ignoring his usual routine of tea and stretching. He flicked off the bedside lamp, fully expecting to toss and turn, but too frustrated and out of sorts to attempt anything other than a dull focus on the hypnotic movement and soft sound of the ceiling fan.

_His phone rang . . . his dad’s number. But his dad knew he was deployed, would never call unless . . . Mary? Had something happened? Anton Hesse smirked as he pressed the button to accept the call._

_“Dad?”_

_“It always ends the same.”_

_“Dad? What -- I don’t understand . . .”_

_He heard the whine just as he heard the shout of warning, and then the world turned upside down, and he was swimming in a sea of flame and steel._

“Dad!”

His own shout woke him, his breath coming in harsh pants. He kicked at tangled sheets, momentary panic setting in as they wrapped tighter around his legs. Forcing himself to stop and take a few deep breaths, he deliberately relaxed the muscles threatening to spasm. Finally, he was able to extricate himself from the sweat-soaked linens and stumble to the shower. The water calmed him, helped him find his center again. He toweled off roughly, then pulled on a worn pair of running shorts and padded down the stairs.

His dad’s desk had become his connection to the past and to the future. Sometimes, he wondered if he was creating an unhealthy limbo for himself; but on nights like this, awakened by nightmares with no real hope of going back to sleep, the study and desk served as a perfect backdrop for his mixed emotions. He settled in to the worn leather chair, a cup of jasmine tea steaming under the soft lamp. He unrolled the soft silk of the needles that had traveled with him from North Korea back to the states; now he usually preferred the convenience of the sterilized packages that he used in the office, but tonight, the comfort of the exquisite instruments would be well worth a few minutes of maintenance after.

One needle, then another, after another, slipped with practiced ease into his aching shoulder. Mental and emotional trauma, he’d learned, caused pain right along with bullets and shrapnel. More, sometimes, he thought ruefully, realizing that his badly damaged rib cage and hip didn’t hurt nearly as much as his shoulder and neck muscles. Tension. 

Specifically, Danny tension. He sighed and took a sip of his tea. There was something about Danny . . . the physical attraction had been immediate, if unexpected. But there was a challenge about him . . . a mystery to solve. And that was before he’d flipped a switch on what Steve had thought was an exceptionally pleasant -- if only marginally professional -- visit. Something about the subject of the connectedness of the Oahu people . . . playmates and school for his little girl, who he’d indicated would be coming with him . . .

Steve took another sip of tea. He’d turned his back on this life -- intelligence. Tracking people, cracking people . . . which was why he’d declined the governor’s offer of immunity and means to run a task force to combat the growing problem of organized crime on the island -- which had taken his father’s life, execution-style. His hands hesitated over the cover of his laptop for a moment before opening it and starting a search.

An hour later, his tea long cold and forgotten, he closed the laptop, slipped the needles out of his shoulder and went into the garage. Maybe he’d just been out of the game way too long and lost his edge on reading people, he thought, as he gathered gear, dusty from a year of mis-use. Or maybe there was some logical explanation -- God, he hoped so -- for why it sure seemed like his new patient was not who he said he was . . . because otherwise . . .

What was he hiding, and why was he hiding a little girl?


	8. Chapter 8

Steve welcomed the familiar thrum of adrenaline coursing through his body. It made him feel alive in a way that he hadn’t felt for a long, long time. He found a long-forgotten turnaround on the winding road, and pulled his truck behind the dense vegetation. It was only a half-mile from the property, a distance easily covered now. He could remember a time when it seemed impossible. Now, his footing was sure, his breath easy and controlled. 

A few twigs snapped beneath his feet before muscle memory and years of training took over, rendering his footfalls silent. The weight of his gun belt and thigh holster was familiar, his stride unaffected by the slight imbalance. He smiled as a trickle of sweat rolled down beneath his tactical vest and settled at the small of his back -- the warm, humid Hawaiin night air kept muscle cramps at bay.

North Korea had been so very, very cold.

He shook off the memory as he neared the property. Slowing his steps, he stayed well off the road. The winding gravel drive came into view. It was blocked by a swing gate, complete with a key pad. It didn’t look especially sturdy; in fact, only the keypad and locking mechanism looked new -- a detail which fit with Danny -- or whoever he was -- as a new owner of the property, struggling to update on a budget. He stepped back from the gate, and staying about two yards from the driveway, followed its curves forward. He passed a small cabin, a soft glow emanating from a corner window, casting just enough of a hint of light for him to catch the movement out of the corner of his eye.

He dropped into a low crouch and waited, perfectly still. He could just make out a shadow, moving through the vegetation. Quiet, but not silent -- trained, then, but not spec ops. The figure hesitated, sweeping a weapon around, but then moved on. Steve let out a soft breath, moved further away from the drive, and continued forward.

*****

“I can’t say, Danny,” Chin murmured into his radio. “It could be an animal. I thought I saw a person, but . . . nothing. I’m going to continue to sweep toward the main house.”

“Copy that.” Danny’s reply came quietly over the radio.

*****

Steve continued his steady progress toward the darkened main house. If not for the almost full moon, the house would have been nearly impossible to spot. Coils of cable snaked through between him and the drive. He crouched down and pulled a section through his fingers -- definitely suitable for zip-line. But it wasn’t new; probably left from the first owners, who had abandoned the project before it quite literally got off the ground. 

He heard a twig snap close behind him, and realized that his fleeting lapse of concentration was about to make life more interesting. 

“Put your hands where I can see them, slowly,” an angry voice said. “And otherwise don’t you so much as twitch, do you understand?”

Steve put his left hand up, fingers spread. “I’m just going to get my identification to show you,” he said. “Just my I.D.”

“No, you’re going to put your hands up like I said.”

Steve reached carefully for his back-up, secure in its chest holster. “I’m not a threat to you, I’m going to show you my ID to prove it.” In one fluid motion, he pulled out his handgun, thumbing off the safety, as he pivoted and spun, rising to face the person behind him.

“Danny Williams, ATF, drop your weapon!”

“Commander Steven McGarrett, drop your weapon!”

Steve stared at Danny in disbelief. “What the hell?! I could have shot you!”

“Likewise, asshole, what the fuck are you doing here? And why are you dressed like a ninja?”

“Put your weapon down, _Danny_. If that’s your real name.”

“Oh, after you, _Steven_. You’re the one trespassing.” 

“What, worried that I’ll find out whose kid you’re holding here?”

“You better quit while you’re ahead, McGarrett, or you’re going to regret it.”

“You gonna call for backup?” Steve took a step toward Danny. His height, strength, and training gave him every advantage in this situation, and he knew it. He knew Danny knew it, too, knew that Danny had to realize that Steve knew his weak spot. The thing was, though, Danny didn’t seem to have gotten the memo. He stepped closer, too, close enough that Steve could see the moonlight reflecting off his intense blue eyes . . . and Steve had never, ever, been this turned on pointing a gun at someone.

Danny smirked. “An ambulance.”

“Gentleman,” Chin said, appearing out of the shadows.

Steve startled, tried to cover by turning the motion into holstering his weapon.

Danny snorted.

“Shall we take this inside?” Chin suggested.

*****

They walked toward the main house in stony silence -- well, Chin walked. Steve made it a point to move silently, while Danny tromped. When they arrived at the main house, Danny shielded the garage door keypad from Steve’s view while he entered the code.

Steve rolled his eyes. “Seriously? You do realize I could disarm that in about one minute, if I wanted to.”

“And in that one minute, you’d be on the business end of my service weapon,” Danny said.

“And mine,” Chin added. “No measure here is foolproof; but all of them give us time.”

Danny paused in front of a non-descript metal cabinet; just like several in Steve’s own garage, filled with the detritus of home repair projects and garden supplies. But this cabinet had a working combination lock, which Danny opened to reveal an interior lined in sound dampening, lint resistant foam. Inside were three rifles, with room for the fourth. Steve watched as Danny expertly cleared the chambered cartridge and stored his rifle carefully in the customized space.

“You are not a real estate developer,” Steve said.

“Maybe I’m a real estate developer who knows how to use guns,” Danny sniped at him. “Maybe you’re an acupuncturist who knows how to use guns and creep around people’s property in the dead of night.”

“Things I learned in the military, which you knew about,” Steve said. He followed Danny up the stairs to the main level. Frustration and confusion aside, he still enjoyed the view.

“Are you mad because I know how to use a gun, just like you know how to use a gun,” Danny said, as he angrily entered the code into the keypad at the door, “or because you didn’t know that I knew how to use a gun, but I knew that you knew how to use a gun?”

“Careful, this is going to end up an Abbott and Costello routine,” Chin said.

As they closed the door behind them, a frightened voice came over a radio clipped to Danny’s belt.

“Danno?!”

Steve thought he heard an echo of the voice coming from the back of the house.

Danny pointed at Chin. “You got me into this, Chin Ho Kelly,” he said, but his voice held no real anger. “Do not let him go poking around.”

“Can I at least offer him a beer?” Chin said. Steve thought he sounded faintly amused.

“Water,” Danny grumbled. He didn’t bother to pick up his radio as he moved quickly through the kitchen and living room, calling out as he headed down the hall. “Grace, everything is fine. I’ll be right there, Monkey.”

“He left some kid locked in here while he’s out playing Rambo?” Steve whirled on Chin, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Some kid? You mean his daughter?” Chin calmly went to the refrigerator and pulled out two Longboards, handing one to Steve. He sat down at the kitchen table and gestured for Steve to join him. Steve scowled and dropped heavily into the chair.

“If it’s really his daughter. She didn’t call him, you know . . . dad, or whatever.”

“Grace is, I assure you, Danny’s daughter. I have no idea why you would think otherwise,” Chin said, after taking a long sip.

“Well, first,” Steve started ticking off his fingers, “he hasn’t yet brought her to the office. Second, I specifically invited him over to my home office so that he could bring his daughter, and he acted like he would, but he didn’t. Third, he spent the whole time deflecting and diverting, and then, when we were talking about you, and Kono, and the aunties -- he clammed up and bugged out abruptly. Didn’t finish treatment, just literally fled the scene.”

“And you found that . . . suspicious? Or just disappointing?”

Steve wasn’t going to admit to both. “I started looking at reasons why someone would get spooked when I started talking about their little girl making friends, meeting the kids she’d be in school with come fall. Like, maybe he didn’t plan to send her to school. So maybe she’s not supposed to be with him, not supposed to be here.”

Chin closed his eyes and sighed. “Shit. Tell me what you found.”

“A Danny Wilson, real estate developer, from Chicago, Illinois, cash purchase of the Keana Farms property. Divorced. No mention of the ex-wife or child, nothing on social media. A decent history of real estate transactions, all of which seemed legit. Clean. Too clean.”

Chin nodded. “And what’s wrong with a person keeping their life off social media? Maybe he just likes his privacy.”

“I also found a Danny Williams, killed in a car accident along with his wife, Rachel Taylor Williams, and Taylor Grace Williams. Until I saw the way he handled a weapon, I thought . . . identity fraud, at best; kidnapping at worst.”

“And now?”

“Now I don’t know what to think, but I don’t like being lied to.”

“Danny Williams is not dead; neither is his daughter, Grace. They are down the hall.” Chin gestured with the neck of his bottle. They could hear faint sounds of sobbing overlaid with Danny’s voice, gentle and soothing.

“And he’s no real estate developer,” Steve stated. “And let me guess -- you’re not an out-of-work former cop, looking to pick up some cash by being a guy-Friday to some haole from the mainland.”

“Danny is, as he identified himself, ATF.” Chin ignored Steve’s disgruntled noise and continued. “I _am_ a former cop, but thanks to your father, who refused to believe I was dirty, I’m now FBI. My path crossed with Danny’s when we became part of a joint task force to take down Cyrus Housand.”

Steve’s head snapped up. “Housand? As in, top ten wanted list in connection with domestic terrorism?”

“That’s the one. He’s been providing arms to everyone from off-the-grid militia to inner city gangs. Danny had been undercover for months; his ATF unit had him dead to rights, finally, with enough evidence to bring him down for felony arms dealing. But the FBI had been building a case against him for human trafficking, wanted to hold off. An agreement was made for inter-agency cooperation.”

“Let me guess; Danny had no say.”

Chin nodded. “And then, somehow, word got to Housand that Danny was a UC.”

Steve had a bad feeling where this was headed. He stood up, pacing next to the table.

“Housand went after his family,” Chin said.

“So, he’s what -- married?” He tried, and failed, to keep the hint of bitterness, of betrayal, out of his voice.

Chin stared at Steve for a long moment, his face impassive. When he began to speak, it was quietly, so quietly that Steve had to quit pacing and stand still to listen.

“Technically, he’s a widower.”

“They killed his wife,” Steve said softly. He glanced down the hall. Apparently, he’d read absolutely everything wrong.

“Danny and Rachel had been separated for a little over a year. She couldn’t handle the pressure, the uncertainty, that came with being an agent’s wife. She filed for divorce . . . Danny threw himself even deeper into the Housand case. He accepted the undercover op. Rachel was happy and had started seeing someone, and Grace was well-adjusted . . . they decided, together, that Danny would get Grace for an extended time over the summer, after the case closed. The lawyers were working out the details to finalize the divorce and custody arrangements . . . the case was going well . . . everything was working out.”

Chin took a deep breath and a long swallow of beer, then picked at the label. Steve held his breath, waiting.

“Danny and one of Housand’s men were out on a routine errand one night . . . the guy pulled up behind an SUV at a railroad crossing, turns to Danny, and says, ‘Your case is dead, and so is your family’. Hit the gas about the time Danny realized it’s Rachel and Grace in the Suburban in front of him. Danny took the guy out, but not before he’d forced them onto the track.”

“Shit,” Steve whispered.

“Danny managed to pull Grace out, but Rachel . . . there was just no way. The train just . . . pulled the SUV away from Danny; almost took Grace with it. How he managed to hold on to her . . . “

Steve rubbed a hand over his face.

“When we got to the hospital, Grace was unconscious, holding on by a thread, and Danny was refusing treatment for his obviously wrecked knee because he wouldn’t leave her side. They weren’t sure if, or when, she would regain consciousness. Danny . . . he was in rough shape. We decided the best thing we could do was have them officially declared dead, create a cover for them, get them the hell out of New Jersey. If Housand knew Danny was still alive -- or worse, if he knew Grace was alive -- “

“He could have told me,” Steve said. “You could have told me. Does Kono know?”

“She does not. You think I want to put her in danger? My cover is easy to sell -- a disgraced former Honolulu PD officer comes back, tries to scrape together a living in private security. Hell, if it hadn’t been for your father and his recommendation to his friend in the Bureau on my behalf, that would probably be the truth of it.”

Chin stopped talking, and Steve turned, as they heard Danny come quietly down the hall.

“I’m catching Steve up. Is Grace okay?” Chin asked.

Danny sat down heavily in a chair, slouching a bit. “She’s fine. Called for me to get her some water and realized I was out of the house.”

“Look, Danny, I’m sorry,” Steve said. 

“Ummhmm. And what are you sorry for? Skulking around my property like a schmuck, instead of just asking a question like a normal human being?”

Steve bristled. “Hey, I gave you plenty of opportunity, but you shut down and turned tail and ran.”

“Because I am trying to keep myself and Grace alive until we put this bastard way, way deep in a federal penitentiary! I can’t just go around telling people, hey, yeah, here’s the thing, I may or may not have someone try to kill me or kidnap my kid, so there’s that, now, how about a steak?” Danny gestured wildly.

“For starters,” Steve said.

“Steve. You know he can’t do that,” Chin said.

“He could have, with me,” Steve argued. He turned to Danny, rubbing the back of his neck. This wasn’t going well. “Shit. What I’m trying to say, is -- you can. You can trust me, Danny.”

“Do I have a choice?” Danny groused, but Steve could read the relief in his face.

“You’ve got no choice,” Steve grinned. “We’re going to get along great.”

“Excuse me, ‘we’? ‘We’ -- what?”

“I can help,” Steve said, wondering why he was having to explain the obvious. “You’re clearly worried that your life, and Grace’s, is in danger. Sounds to me like it is, and like you’re in no position to turn down some help. Read me in. Let’s start there.”

“You have no idea what you’re offering,” Danny said. “I can’t put a target on your back, too.”

“You think you’re talking to a civilian? How far up does this go?” Steve demanded. “Chin said that someone fingered you as the undercover. So, ATF has a mole? What about the FBI? I’m guessing that’s why it's just the two of you here, right, instead of a team. Who better to trust than someone who no longer has any ties to any agency or interest?”

Danny hesitated. “You don’t have any ties to this, either.”

“I’ve already vouched for Steve,” Chin said, standing and stretching. “Argue if you like, but if he’s half as tenacious as his old man, we’re not going to be rid of him, anyway. I’ll let you pick up the narrative, Danny -- I’m going to go make sure everything is reset and turn in for the night.” He extended a hand to Steve. “Steve, it’s been nice to reconnect, even under these circumstances. And I’m truly sorry about your father. He was a good man -- HPD and Honolulu lost a dedicated officer.”

Steve stood to shake Chin’s hand, and found himself wrapped in a hug. He’d almost forgotten how tactile Hawaiians were; he hadn’t realized how much he had missed human contact.

“Thank you, Chin Ho. He always spoke so highly of you and your family.”

Chin gave Danny’s shoulder a squeeze. “See you in the morning, Danny. You know how to reach me if we have any more unexpected guests.”

Danny snorted. 

As Chin made his way out of the house, Steve wandered to the entrance to the second story deck. Danny stood, and grabbed two more beers from the fridge. He tilted his head in Steve’s direction.

“It’s a nice place to sit, come on. May as well give you the whole story, since you haven’t the good sense of self-preservation to pretend you never met me.”

They settled into the chairs, overlooking the moonlit property.

“How far did Chin get?” Danny asked quietly.

“To the hospital. To the cover story; you, your family declared dead. God, Danny. I’m so sorry.”

“I wasn’t even sure I’d managed to pull Grace out, she was in my arms, and then the Suburban was just ripped away. I thought . . . for a minute there, I thought that it had pulled her with it. I -- I didn’t get her head clear in time, and . . . Rachel was just . . . gone.”

“Danny.”

“I went to Grace first. Sheer instinct. I try to tell myself every day, Rachel would have made the same choice, you know? And I did what she would have wanted me to do. She was unconscious; the airbag had knocked her out, so . . . I don’t think she knew what was coming, what was happening. Grace, though, she knew. She was screaming for me to help her.”

“There was nothing you could have done, Danny.”

“If I’d realized, sooner, that we were tailing Rachel . . . but she hadn’t had that vehicle very long. It, ah, it wasn’t ours, from before . . . it was Stan’s -- she’d been seeing him for a while, they were talking moving in together permanently. I just didn’t recognize . . . not even my own kid’s head in the backseat, you know?”

“Don’t,” Steve said. He knew, intimately, where the second-guessing led.

“Grace, she -- she still has terrible nightmares. And she gets these headaches; she’s in so much pain: traumatic brain injury. The doctors say that it will just take time for her brain to recover, but she’s young, and they’re -- they’re very hopeful. They set me up with a year’s supply of pain meds, but that’s just for the injury. For the rest . . . she needs therapy. You know, a professional . . . and, I can’t. Not yet, it’s not safe. I just -- I need this to be over.”

“It will be,” Steve said. 

“It’s . . . me and Grace against the world, you know? Just the two of us.”

“Maybe you’re not as alone as you think you are, Danny.” Steve paused, tilting his head. “Danno?”

Danny chuckled. “Rachel was British; Danno was Grace’s version of Rachel’s version of Daniel. It stuck.”

“I like it. It’s cute.”

“Do not start.”

“What?”

It was Danny’s turn to pause and contemplate Steve. “Okay.”

“Okay what?”

“Well, I mean -- you know everything there is to know now, don’t you?”

“And you can trust me with it, all of it,” Steve said earnestly.

“Yeah.” Danny sighed. “It’s . . . I didn’t enjoy lying to you. And I’m sorry, for the way I bolted today.” He glanced at his watch. “Yesterday, technically.”

“I completely understand,” Steve said. “We do what it takes to keep our family safe, right? No apologies necessary.”

“Excuse me?” Danny arched an eyebrow at Steve. “Oh, I think there’s an apology necessary somewhere in all of this.”

“What? I -- oh. Yeah.” Steve rubbed at the back of his neck. “I’m sorry I investigated your background, thought you were a kidnapper, and trespassed on your property.”

“Apology noted. Acceptance is pending.”

A slow smile spread across Steve’s face. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then. I mean, today. When the sun’s up.”

“You will?”

Steve gestured to the dark property stretched out before them under the blanket of stars. “I can think of six key access points to fortify, right off the top of my head. This is what I do, Danny. Or . . . what I did,” he said quietly. “Please. Let me help. Besides, I’d really like to meet this daughter of yours.”

“She would like that,” Danny said. “And . . . I would too. I don’t know how to thank you --”

Steve interrupted him, squeezing his shoulder gently. “By keeping her safe. By keeping you safe, and putting that bastard away permanently.” 

And if Steve was keeping a mental list of the potential, efficient, permanent ways to deal with Housand, well, no one else needed to know that, just yet.


	9. Chapter 9

Danny woke up the next morning with a sense of anticipation.

“Ridiculous,” he muttered to himself. “This is ridiculous; as if my life was not complicated enough.” But then again, his life had been complicated when he felt this way about Rachel, too. Posh and refined, she was definitely not the sort he was usually smitten with, but he hadn’t been able to deny the immediate attraction then, and he was running out of denial now.

He’d showered before collapsing into bed for a few hours of sleep, so he moved quickly through the rest of his morning routine, half-heartedly attempting to tame his hair, and pulling on comfortable jeans. He peeked into Grace’s room on his way to the kitchen and paused in the doorway, watching her as she slept peacefully. The scent of coffee wafted down the hall, and he followed it, intrigued. Chin customarily did a sweep of the property and rarely finished this early.

He stopped short when he stepped into the kitchen. Steve was at the counter, reaching for a mug, the ink on his arms on full display in a tank top which was riding up to reveal a strip of bronzed skin at the base of his spine.

“Good morning,” Steve said, not turning to face Danny until he’d snagged two mugs. “Before you start ranting, Chin gave me the code.”

“You made coffee, you’re forgiven,” Danny said. He could see that Steve was grinning as he filled the mugs.

“Wasn’t sure if you’d be awake.”

“And yet you came anyway.”

Steve ducked his head and rubbed the back of his neck; a gesture Danny was already familiar with and found entirely too endearing for common sense.

“It’s been a while since I’ve had a project like this,” Steve said. “Maybe I missed it more than I realized.”

Danny closed his eyes and held up a hand. “We are not going to discuss your no-doubt overachieving ideas until I am at least half-way into my second cup.”

“Okay,” Steve said.

“It is a Saturday. On Saturday, I indulge in a slow morning. On Sunday, I indulge in an afternoon nap. In a world turned upside down, observations of weekend rituals are one of my last ties to civilization.”

Danny opened his eyes to find Steve looking at him incredulously, and glancing down at his own almost-empty mug. 

“Danno?” Grace’s soft voice called from her room.

“Sleeping beauty awakes,” Danny said, smiling. “I’ll be right back.”

*****

Steve felt off-balance; had, since he’d turned to see Danny standing barefoot in the kitchen, hair mussed and eyes still sleepy and half-mast. Now he was struck with a sudden case of nerves, as he waited for Danny to come back with Grace. He’d never had experience with kids; but Grace was clearly the center of Danny’s universe, and he took it as a matter of course that they were a package deal. Which meant that Grace’s opinion of him was of singular importance.

He fidgeted with the handle of his mug until he heard two sets of footfalls in the hallway. Danny reappeared, carrying the little girl on his hip -- his good hip, Steve noticed, and absently registered that he should check for over rotation of that ankle. 

“Grace likes to indulge in a slow Saturday morning, too,” Danny said, kissing her on her cheek. She smiled shyly at Steve but kept her head tucked securely under Danny’s chin.

“Good morning,” Steve said. “I’m Steve. It’s nice to meet you.”

“I’m Grace. It’s very nice to meet you, too,” she said. “Are you helping my Danno’s knee feel better?” 

“I’m sure trying to.”

“He is,” Danny said. He smoothed a hand down her back. “Are you hungry for breakfast yet, or just juice?”

“Just some juice, please.”

Danny deposited her in a chair. “Here, Monkey. Your wish is my command.”

She studied Steve solemnly, her eyes wide in her tiny face. “Are you here for Danno’s knee?”

“Not today,” Steve said. “I thought I would help out a little bit on some of your projects.”

“For the Keana Farms Family Adventure Center?”

Steve glanced at Danny; he had no idea what, if anything Grace knew, and was terrified he would somehow blow it. Danny just smiled and nodded encouragingly.

“Yes, some of those projects,” Steve said. 

Danny handed Grace a glass of apple juice. “Grace,” he said gently. “Look at me . . . okay. Steve is like Uncle Chin, okay? He is a safe grown-up; you can talk to him about anything. He can come into the house, and if you need help, you can ask him for help. Alright?”

Grace nodded.

“But,” Danny continued, “you still have to remember that Steve knows lots of people, and you might be somewhere that Steve is, with other people besides me and Chin. So if you need to ask a question or ask for some help, you’ll need to talk to just Steve; just like you do with Chin. Got it?”

“Got it.” She took a sip of her juice, eyes still fixed on Steve over the rim of her glass.

Steve stared back at her, awestruck. She didn’t look like Danny, not really, but there was something in her eyes that reflected the same calm determination that he’d seen in Danny’s. And something else, too, a profound and irrevocable sadness . . . so similar to Mary’s, that night he first arrived back on the island. He had a simple and sudden urge to scoop her up and hold her tight in his arms.

“Are you sad?” she asked, tilting her head at him.

“Maybe just a little bit,” he answered truthfully. “I was just thinking about some things. I’m very happy to be here with you and your daddy today.”

She smiled then, her face lighting up. “Would you like to see my treehouse?”

*****

“He’s surprisingly good with her,” Chin said quietly, nodding at Steve and Grace. He and Danny had taken a break and were sitting in the shade on the deck, drinking water. They could see Steve and Grace inside the treehouse. 

“What’s he doing?” Danny asked. Steve was sitting cross legged next to Grace, both of their heads bent over something. 

“I believe he’s making another hammock.”

“You know we’re going to have a hard time convincing Grace to sleep inside tonight,” Danny said. She’d squealed with delight at the rope hammock Steve had fashioned for her earlier in the day, his hands deftly tying and weaving from a huge spool of rope they’d found in one of the sheds. Steve had grabbed it, along with a colorful banner, and only smiled at Danny when he’d questioned him. “Wait, that hammock better not be for me; if he thinks I’m sleeping outside with these bugs . . .”

“He probably knows you’ll sleep outside if Grace really wants to,” Chin laughed.

Danny fell silent for a moment. “It’s hard not to spoil her.”

“I’m sure. But you’re doing an amazing job, Danny. She’s polite, considerate . . . and, key to her safety, she responds immediately when one of us gives her a direction. She’s going to be fine, really.”

“She’s a great kid. I wish . . . well.” He shook his head. No sense dwelling on the losses. “Oh, they’re getting up --”

He could see Grace bouncing on her toes, Steve standing -- in a fashion, bent over to avoid hitting his head -- and fastening something . . .

“He made hammocks for her bears,” Chin said, amused. 

Steve sat back down and solemnly handed Grace one bear at a time, watching as she tucked them each into a tiny hammock. When she finished, she launched herself into Steve’s lap, throwing her arms around him.

Time seemed to slow as Danny watched Steve hesitate, then wrap his arms around Grace, one big hand tucking her head against his shoulder. He rocked her ever so gently, and then pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

Danny felt an unexpected sting of tears as Steve lifted his head, his eyes meeting Danny’s.

“Well, there you go,” Chin said softly. He stood, stretching, and squeezed Danny’s shoulder. 

Danny could see Steve whisper something to Grace, and she popped up and into the doorway of the treehouse.

“Danno, come see!”

Danny grabbed two extra water bottles and made his way across the crosswalk. He handed one to Steve.

“Thank you,” he mouthed silently.

Steve shrugged, ducking his head, but not before Danny caught an expression of joy and amazement.

“Here Monkey, keep hydrated,” Danny said, handing the other bottle to Grace.

“We made hammocks for my stuffies,” Grace chattered, “and I learned how to tie the knots, and there’s lots more rope in the shed, and I can practice. And I’m going to learn more knots. There’s all kinds of things you can do with knots.”

“Is that right?” Danny asked. 

“They have entire classes on it in the Navy,” Grace informed him. “And we’re going to hang a flag! But Steve thought you should help with that.”

She ran and picked up the banner. It was a typical business event banner; multi-color triangles stretched on a long cord.

“Which color is your favorite?” Steve asked, helping her sort out the tangle of bright nylon.

“Purple,” Grace said, without hesitation.

“Okay, then.” Steve whipped out a knife from his pocket, opening it with a flick of his thumb. He neatly separated the purple triangle and handed it to Grace. “Why don’t you and your Danno hang this from that post, right there, near the door.”

Danny held the fabric while Grace tied off each end of the cord. 

“I love it!” Grace exclaimed, twirling around as her new flag moved in the breeze.

“Good choice,” Danny said. “I had no idea purple was your favorite color, seriously, no idea at all, when did this happen?”

Grace laughed, glancing down at her t-shirt which declared her a princess in bright purple script. “Danno, it’s always been my favorite color.”

“Oh, okay, good to know you aren’t growing out of your purple phase just yet,” Danny said. “I’m relieved.”

Steve held up another piece of the banner. “I’ve got one more flag for you, Grace, a special one.”

She scooted over to him as he held out a triangle of red.

“I want you to keep this red flag in here where you can get to it,” he said. “And if you’re ever in the treehouse, and you feel sick, or scared, then you hang this flag next to the purple one, okay?”

“Like a signal,” Grace said.

“Exactly like a signal.”

It was a good thing, Danny thought, that Grace was wrapped around Steve like the little monkey that she was, because he might have embarrassed himself and done the same otherwise.

*****

They’d finished all of Steve’s proposed projects and wrapped up the day with grilled burgers and well-deserved beers. Chin had excused himself to the cabin, ostensibly to read, but Steve had sensed, with some embarrassment, that his desire to have time with Danny had been obvious. They were settled now in the chairs that were becoming as familiar as his own, the breeze turning cooler just as the sun started to set. Grace was swinging lazily in her hammock, reading a book with one of her stuffies tucked next to her.

“I could stay. Here,” Steve said quietly, his eyes still on Grace. “I mean, in the cabin, with Chin. As added security.”

“What about your house?” Danny asked. “Just leave it empty?”

Steve shrugged. “I’ll be seeing patients there once or twice a week, and I could stop by to get the mail to and from work.”

“I appreciate the offer, I do, but . . . I can’t ask you to do that.” Danny gestured around the property. “You’ve already gone far above and beyond.”

“What happens if someone gets closer than I got the other night? You need to be able to stay with Grace; Chin needs back-up.”

“You saying I don’t know how to protect my child?”

Grace glanced in their direction at the change in Danny’s tone.

“I know you mean well,” Danny said, lowering his voice. “But it’s just not a good idea.”

“Why?” Steve demanded.

“It . . . look, the more people we get involved in this, the more complicated it gets. Out-of-town --”

“Haole,” Steve interrupted.

“Fine, haole and kid move on to project property, hire one former local for security and help -- makes sense. Another local, a guy who has one of the friendliest people with apparently limitless local connections --”

“Cousins,” Steve interjected.

“ -- cousins, working as his receptionist in a practice where he treats hundreds more people --”

Steve snorted. “It’s not a big practice, Danny.”

“-- it looks suspicious. Attracts attention.”

“Worried people will think we’re dating?” Steve said, half joking. 

But Danny fell silent, thoughtful, tongue worrying over his lower lip in a gesture Steve already recognized. It made him want to swipe his thumb over Danny’s mouth, tell him to stop fretting.

“Grace took to you really quick,” Danny said, finally.

Steve tilted his head at the non-sequitur. “She’s a great kid.”

“She’s already experienced more loss than anyone should endure in a lifetime. She’s eight.”

Steve nodded. He watched Grace, a soft smile spreading across his face. When he realized that Danny was watching him, he turned his head.

“I’m not sure it’s a good idea to let her get attached,” Danny said softly.

“What about me?” Steve asked.

It was Danny’s turn to tilt his head. “Come again?”

“Is it a bad idea for me to get attached?” 

“Probably,” Danny said. 

“Shoulda warned me sooner, then. Kinda too late, now.” Slouched in the chairs, they were so close that Steve could feel the warmth radiating from Danny. He relaxed his leg just that little bit more, letting his knee bump against Danny’s and stay there.

“There are people actively trying to find and kill me,” Danny pointed out, but he didn’t move his knee.

Steve shrugged. “Must be a Tuesday. You think I ended up with a medical discharge from the military because I’m good at making friends?”

“You’re insane, you know that.” Danny was studying him now, keen blue eyes searching, searching.

“Yeah, probably. I mean, anyone with a sense of self-preservation wouldn’t have fallen for a haole with a target on his back, living under an assumed identity with an absolutely adorable little girl,” Steve said. He returned Danny’s intense gaze boldly, openly, letting Danny see anything and everything. It was as exhilarating as it was terrifying -- it had been a long, long time since Steve had allowed himself to be vulnerable. 

“Shit. I did not set out to do . . . this,” Danny sighed, gesturing between himself and Steve.

But Steve noticed that he didn’t move his knee, either, so he smirked at Danny, who caught on quickly and held up a warning finger.

“Don’t start,” he said.

“Come over to my place tomorrow,” Steve said. “Bring Gracie. It’s safe. Let her play in the water, build sandcastles . . . we’ll both be right there, watching her. It’s mostly retirees in my neighborhood, the beach is practically private.”

“Retirees can be nosey,” Danny said. “It still attracts attention, me there with my little girl.”

“Which brings me back to my question . . .” Steve looked down, fidgeted with the label on his bottle. “You don’t want the aunties and uncles on my block to think we’re dating?”

“Steve. Hey.”

Steve looked up. Danny put one hand on their knees, gestured between them with his bottle.

“Let me make this much clear: if I were not living under an assumed identity, in order to protect my daughter and live long enough to testify against Housand and put him away, I would not care one flying fuck if people thought we were dating. Okay?”

“My neighbors wouldn’t be surprised to see a . . . gentleman caller at my house,” Steve said quietly. “Not that there’s been a steady parade, mind you, but . . .” he shrugged. “Hey,” he said, brightening and giving Danny a gentle backhanded smack on his bicep. “What about Housand?”

“Come again? What about -- what is it with you and these giant leaps of --”

“Would Housand expect to see you . . . you know. With a guy.”

Danny opened his mouth, closed it again. Looked at Steve. Looked at Gracie and then back at Steve. 

“Well?”

“No. No; obviously, they found out I had been married to Rachel.”

“There ya go,” Steve said. He settled back in his chair, took a long sip of beer, aware that Danny was watching the line of his throat as he swallowed. “Just makes your cover that much better, you ask me.”

“I didn’t ask you. Your logic is . . .”

“Impeccable,” Steve said, smirking. He sobered quickly, though, because after all, Danny had been married . . . “But . . . other times? Before? You’ve . . .”

“Yeah,” Danny said. “Never anything serious, but yeah. And okay.”

“Okay?”

“I’ll come over tomorrow. So Gracie can play. So help me, if you make me regret this, I will pull your balls out through your nose and shove them down your throat.”

“Aw, Danno, you say the sweetest things.”

“Do not -- do not call me Danno, okay . . . “


	10. Chapter 10

Grace was practically vibrating with excitement in the passenger seat.

“Okay, what are the beach rules?” Danny asked, as they neared Steve’s house.

“Only get in the water with you or Steve. The ocean is not like the pool. Sunscreen every time I get out of the water. And say right away if my head starts to hurt, even if I’m having fun.”

“That’s good, Monkey,” Danny said. 

“Do you think Steve will like the picture I made him?”

“I think he will love it,” Danny said, glancing down at the paper carefully clutched in Grace’s hand. 

Danny felt awkward as they climbed out of the car and made their way along the stone walkway to the front porch. They’d talked about the neighbors assuming that Danny was someone Steve was dating. So was this a date? In the middle of the most tenuous, fragile situation of Danny’s life? 

He sighed. 

“What’s wrong?” Grace asked, looking up at him as they climbed the steps.

“Sometimes Danno questions his life choices, baby.”

Steve opened the door just as Danny raised his hand to knock. He looked endearingly awkward; not at all the calm professional Danny had met at his first appointment, definitely not the menacing figure he’d encountered in the middle of the night, and not even the competent but cautious guy building tiny hammocks with nothing more than rope and fancy knots. This Steve looked like he was out of his element and trying his damndest.

Which could mean only one thing: he wanted to make a good impression on _Grace_. The realization made Danny’s last reserve of caution and self-doubt dissipate. 

“Good morning, Grace,” Steve said, folding himself down gracefully to her level.

“I made you a picture,” she said, holding out her drawing. 

Danny watched as Steve carefully accepted the paper, the bright greens and blues and strokes of browns more than adequately depicted her treehouse. But it was a bold, oversized stroke of purple that dominated the page.

“Grace, this is perfect,” Steve said. “You have the flag and everything. I love it; thank you.”

Danny could tell by the way Grace bounced onto the balls of her feet that Steve was about to be enveloped in one of her hugs. He watched, amused, as Steve suddenly found himself with an armful of little girl. Cautiously, he wrapped his arms around her and stood, picking her up with him. His eyes met Danny’s over her head.

He smiled at Danny, clearly awestruck, as if he’d wondered if the same scenario the day before had been some sort of fluke.

“You’re in for it now,” Danny said fondly. “That’s how she gets you; she starts with the hugs.”

Steve laughed, and still holding Grace, moved toward the kitchen. “I’m very new at being around kids, but I’m pretty sure that masterpieces go on refrigerators, right?”

“Right!” Grace said. She was looking around with interest. “Danno says you have a beach in your actual yard.”

Steve laughed, depositing Grace on the floor in front of the fridge. “I do, in fact, have a beach in my actual yard. Okay, let’s see . . . magnets . . . there. Now my refrigerator is complete. Let’s see what’s inside it. You know, it’s important to stay hydrated if you’re going to be in the sun and the water. There’s plenty of water, and some apple juice. And some fruit and snacks, if you get hungry, okay?” He glanced up at Danny.

Danny could see three bottles of apple juice in the fridge: the exact brand that he’d poured for Grace the day before.

“Goof,” he said. “I hope there’s some beer in there somewhere . . . “

*****

They sat in the shade of the faded umbrella that looked like it hadn’t been opened in years, watching Grace build intricate drip castles at the edge of the water. Danny pointed from a set of clearly new, purple beach toys to the frayed fabric moving gently in the late morning breeze.

“Those clearly came along with the month’s apple juice supply,” he said, “but it looks like this has seen more than a few weekends. Maybe a decade ago.”

Steve grinned. “I doubt it’s seen the outside of the garage since I was in highschool, but I figured we might need some shade. You know, for the landlocked.”

“Jersey has beaches,” Danny said. “You may have even heard of one: the Jersey shore? Lots of people think it’s a lovely destination.”

“You miss it?” Steve asked quietly.

Danny thought for a moment. “I’m not sure. When I think of Jersey, all I can see now is one load of guns after another, watching them land in the hands of yet another gang, yet another drug pusher. Reporting every movement to my superiors, wondering when they’d finally make a move . . . knowing those weapons were killing kids, killing cops.”

Steve nodded.

“I almost blew my cover myself, the first day I saw someone come up short with cash, and Housand accepted a girl instead.”

“Shit,” Steve breathed out. “That’s how the FBI got involved?”

“I found a way to get clear and send word up the chain immediately. ATF reached out to see if we could find a way to get the girl out without showing our hand. Turns out it wasn’t the first time; just the first time there was a witness. A living witness. An undercover FBI agent, before my time, is still unaccounted for. Naturally, we didn’t know that when we started our operation, because the clusterfuck that is inter-agency cooperation is alive and well. Anyway. That may have been when my cover was blown. Chin still hasn’t heard; just that there’s another FBI agent inside now, trying to get what they need to charge him with human trafficking. He’s discovered that accepting girls as payment creates another stream of income. And amusement.”

“Why not just take him out?”

Danny stared at Steve. “Um, because we don’t do that here in the US? What the hell is the matter with you?”

“Don’t tell me it wouldn’t be justice,” Steve said.

“A bullet would not be justice. Justice . . . would start with castration. I don’t know where I’d go from there.”

Steve seemed to muse over that. Danny leaned back in his chair and let the comfortable silence extend between them.

“After he goes down . . . you think about the fact that, most likely, there’s just going to be another person who steps into the void and does the same thing?”

Danny shifted in his seat and studied Steve. “Gotta say, babe, that sounds like a pretty specific line of thought.”

“I was in the military a long time,” Steve said. He let a long arm dangle over the chair, his hand drawing abstract swirls in the soft sand below. “Sometimes it was easy to lose sight of who or what you were fighting.”

Danny nodded. “My whole career, I was in New York, New Jersey. Close to home. It seems . . . more personal, I guess, when you’re protecting your own city. Your own family. And yeah, someone might take over, after we take Housand down. Doesn’t mean we shouldn’t take him down, though.”

“You ever thought about just walking away? Taking your new identity and Grace and just . . . disappearing?”

“To keep her safe, yeah,” Danny said. “But would I be looking over my shoulder for the rest of our lives? Living on the run? I couldn’t do that to her. The only way for this to be over is to see it through.”

Steve nodded, still looking toward Grace but his gaze a thousand miles away. Danny took the opportunity to study his profile; the strong, stubbled jaw, the plush eyelashes, dark against the backdrop of the blue sky. 

“Do you miss the military?” Danny asked. He figured that’s where Steve’s mind had gone.

Steve leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “I miss my team,” he said finally. “But I can’t go back, so . . . “ 

“Would you?” Danny asked.

Steve shook his head. “Not now. I’m not leaving my sister again.”

“You mentioned her, the evening you took me to see Mamo. I wondered if some of these beach towels were hers, maybe. Didn’t figure you for a Strawberry Shortcake fan.”

Steve chuckled and snagged one of the rolled towels from a basket full that had been placed under the umbrella. Danny wondered how early he had been up, fussing around to make things nice. It had been a long, long time since anyone had fussed over them.

“Yeah, this was hers when she was a kid,” Steve said, his fingers stroking over the terrycloth. “She . . . she went through a really rough time on the mainland, decided to come home. I knew she was back, knew she’d moved back in with dad. When he died, the Navy couldn’t reach me.”

“You were injured then?” Danny asked. “Sorry, you don’t have to talk about it.”

“Well, some of it’s classified,” Steve said.

“Yeah, I bet that’s what you tell all the girls.”

Steve laughed at that, grateful for the lighter tone. “Yeah, I was injured. So, she was alone, you know? Just . . . kind of lost. And then the Navy stopped looking for me. Presumed KIA. Mamo says she spiraled then; he got called several times to come pick her up. Because of who my dad was, HPD looked out for her, tried to keep her safe . . . from herself, mostly.”

“Geez,” Danny said. “I’m sorry she went through that.”

“I wasn’t dead --”

“Glad to know.”

“-- and one day I made it back to . . . well, I got back to where I could make contact. I refused to debrief anywhere but Pearl; I wanted to come home. So, they got me on the first flight, and I called Mamo, right away, and he -- he was going to come here, tell Mary. He found her . . .”

Steve’s voice trailed off, and Danny found it the most natural thing in the world to reach over and take Steve’s hand in his own. Steve looked surprised, at first, but then turned Danny’s hand over. His callused finger traced up Danny’s wrist.

“She’d given up. She was sitting in the spot where our dad died . . . she’d slit her wrists and just . . .”

Danny squeezed his hand. “Jesus, Steve. I’m sorry.”

“If I’d only been one day sooner . . .”

“No. No -- Steve. You can’t take that on yourself. But he got to her in time, yeah?”

“Yeah. When I landed on the island, she was in Queen’s. But once she healed physically, we found a really great facility for her. She had trouble, for a while . . . dissociation, they call it. It took her a while to sort out what was real and what wasn’t. They’d told her I was dead so . . . “ Steve stopped. “I’m sorry; everything you’ve been through with Grace, and losing her mom --”

“Hey, hey no. We’re sharing here, not competing.”

Steve smiled down at their joined hands. “Not a lot of people could handle this level of sharing.”

“Things have been pretty intense for both of us lately,” Danny said. 

Steve turned to look at him. “Intense, yeah. And that was before we even met. Since then, things have been . . . “

“Still intense,” Danny said. “God help us.” He tried to stifle a sudden yawn.

“Guess it’s time for that Sunday afternoon nap,” Steve teased.

“Sorry, I just -- it’s been . . .”

“Yeah. I can imagine. You can rest, you know. Nothing’s going to happen to Grace; not while I’m here.”

“I’m good,” Danny protested. “It’s very relaxing, just sitting here . . . I’m not going to sleep . . . ”

*****

He woke up to a bucketful of ocean water to his mid-section, and the sound of Grace squealing in delight.

“You -- what?!?” he sputtered, jumping up as Steve and Grace took off toward the water. “Neanderthals, the both of you!”


	11. Chapter 11

It was as if the universe pressed a cosmic pause button. Days slipped by pleasantly, though Danny could feel himself stretching thin with tension. Grace accompanied him to Steve’s office one or twice a week, charming Kono immediately and completely. More than once, Danny had exited the treatment room to find Kono bent over Grace’s hands, putting fingernail polish -- purple, naturally -- on her tiny fingers.

ATF and the FBI had finally hit their stride in cooperative efforts, and reports were arriving steadily.

“Intel looks solid,” Danny said, drinking coffee over files and reports with Chin. “This communication and chatter between an IP address in Jersey and one in northern Virginia is troubling.”

“If we were getting too close to a political interest . . .”

“Yeah. When I was recruited by ATF, I thought it would be easier to tell the good guys from the bad guys,” Danny sighed.

Chin helped gather up the files and stow them securely. “I’m going to pick up some mahi at the fresh market. Should I get enough for Steve as well?”

Danny felt his cheeks flush a bit. “Um, yeah, when I was at my appointment earlier, I invited him for dinner. You know, reciprocating for the other Sunday.”

“Reciprocating,” Chin said thoughtfully. “So that’s what you kids are calling it these days.”

*****

“I am impressed,” Steve said, tilting back in his chair, propping his feet on the deck railings. “I was skeptical, I admit, but you absolutely did that mahi justice. And the pineapple salsa . . .”

“We have fish in Jersey, too, you know,” Danny said. He took a sip of the wine they had opened after dinner. Did wine make it a date? he wondered. If so, this was a second date. Wait -- a third?

“Well, it was delicious. Thank you for having me.”

“You’re welcome. Thank you for playing countless rounds of Connect Four with Grace while I made dinner.”

Steve’s face lit up. “She has amazing analytical and predictive skills. We should teach her poker.”

“Poke-- are you out of your mind? She’d bleed us dry,” Danny protested. His smart watch pinged with an alert, sobering him instantly.

They were both on their feet in a split second. Danny knew he should reach for his radio first, to check in with Chin, but the instinct to go to Grace was stronger. As if Steve read his mind, he felt his radio lifted from his belt.

“Grace,” Steve said, nodding, as he thumbed the speaker on the radio. “Chin, what do you have?”

“Single trip, from the furthermost point west.” Chin’s voice crackled over the speaker.

“Danno, what’s going on?”

Danny picked Grace up and settled her on his hip. “Remember how we’ve practiced if I have to go with Chin to make sure the property is safe?”

“Yes.”

“That’s what we need to do now, okay? You’re going to stay in your room, and you’re going to slide the big bar that goes across your door on the inside; you remember how to do that?”

“Just like we practiced,” Grace said, her eyes wide. “And I don’t slide it back unless you or Chin tell me it’s safe. Or Steve?”

“Or Steve,” Danny confirmed. “And if you hear noises inside the house, what do you do?”

“I get in the empty closet and I slide the bar over that door, too.”

“Good girl. We’ll be back as soon as we check and see what’s wandering around out there.”

“It could be an animal,” Grace said. “Like you said it was, when it was Steve.”

Danny couldn’t help but chuckle at the affronted look on Steve’s face. “That’s right,” he said, kissing her on the cheek. She kissed him back, and then lifted her hands to Steve.

“Oh, I --” Steve stammered as Danny cheerfully shoved Grace into his arms. She wrapped her little arms around his neck and kissed him, too. He held her tight against him, closing his eyes for a moment, then kissed the top of her head before handing her back to Danny. “Okay, you do just what your daddy said, right?”

Grace nodded solemnly and ran into her room as soon as Danny put her down. They heard the satisfying sound of metal sliding and securing. 

“Got it, Danno!”

“Good girl.”

Danny was already moving down the hall, Steve at his hip. They clattered down the stairs into the garage, where Chin was already pulling out gear from the cabinets that lined the walls. Vests, rifles, extra magazines . . . Steve’s eyes lit up with joy at the night-vision goggles.

“Coming from the west, there’s no roads that way,” Chin said. “It could very well be an animal.”

“Chin and I will track that direction,” Steve said. “Danny, secure the perimeter of the house.”

“Yes, Commander,” Danny said, rolling his eyes as Chin looked on, bemused.

*****

Steve moved silently through the dense foliage, a heavy fog condensing and dripping off leaves, rendering his night vision goggles barely useful. What seemed like peaceful silence from the vantage point of a comfortable deck chair was now a cacophony of sound -- every snap registering as a potential threat to Danny and Grace. Every nerve was on high alert.

He realized he’d be lying to himself if there wasn’t a part of him that felt gloriously, exhilaratingly alive. 

“I’ve got movement.” Chin’s voice came quietly over the radio. 

“Moving toward you from your south,” Steve replied. Muscle memory and years of training took over, and he was moving rapidly through the thick, curling vines and over snarled tree roots. As he made his way closer to Chin’s location, he heard voices and the sound of bodies crashing through the brush.

“Do you have visual?” he asked.

“Affirmative,” Chin replied. “I count two, but it sounds like a hell of a lot more.”

Steve could hear duplicate movement in his radio. “I’m almost to you, closing in.”

The sharp report of a rifle echoed around them.

“Chin?” Steve barked into his radio. “Chin?!?”

*****

Danny stayed on the southwest side of the house. Every single light had been turned off by one switch at the circuit breaker. If some fucker did get past Danny and into the house, he’d be feeling his way in the dark, and Danny would have an advantage going in.

It didn’t come naturally, hanging back. He was always in front, taking point, leading his team. But this was different, and they all knew it. There was no question that one of them would stay close as a last line of defense to Grace -- just as there was no question that if someone did make it through to Danny, looking for Steve and Chin would be a recovery effort.

“Shit, that’s comforting,” he mumbled to himself. He’d barely muttered the words when a shot rang out, and Steve’s voice calling for Chin quickly followed over the radio.

After a panicked moment, Chin responded. “I’m good, we’ve got --” he panted, clearly on the move, “we’ve got two men, rifles, they weren’t shooting at me -- Steve?”

“No, not in my direction. And they’re no where near the house yet, what the hell -- aw fucking shit --”

“What?!?” Danny demanded. He tried to keep his voice low, in case what was happening out there was a distraction.

“We’ve got --” Steve’s voice was cut off by another rifle shot. Danny’s heart was racing, trying to claw its way up his throat and out of his chest.

“Good evening, gentlemen,” Chin’s voice was calm, if winded. “May I see your hunting permits?”

“Poachers,” Steve said into the radio, for Danny’s benefit. “How many of you are out here?”

“Just us, I swear!” “No one else!”

Danny could hear general chaos and mentions of game wardens and he could have sworn Chin said something about angering gods, but surely he’d misunderstood. And it may have been his imagination, but it sounded like some of the crashing sounds he’d heard over the radio were coming closer.

“Guys?” Danny had to raise his voice slightly to get their attention. “Are you sure there’s only two? I’m hearing a lot of movement coming this direction.”

“Shit,” Steve exclaimed. “Chin, you got this? I think they might have flushed out a boar. Danny, take cover!”

Danny headed for the ground level door into the garage just as something dark intersected the strange green glow of his night vision goggles. “What the hell?!”

There was a snarling sound, and then the breath was knocked out of his lungs. He could hear Steve crashing through the brush.

“Danny!!”

Danny resisted the urge to yank off his night vision gear, which was clearly malfunctioning, because he was seeing some sort of wolf-pig, straight from Grimm’s fairy tales -- and not the Disney version. But then there was more snarling, close enough that he could smell the foul breath of whatever this was bearing down on him. Too close to grab for his rifle, his hand closed around his SIG and pulled it from his vest. He managed to get off a shot, and was rewarded with a strangled whimper before he was being crushed by something heavy, and smelly.

He heard another snarl, and turned his head desperately to see another dark form barreling out of the brush. His arm was pinned by the weight thrashing on top of him.

“Danny!” Steve called out, running low and full tilt toward the second set of snarls. Danny made out the movement of one of Steve’s long arms, reaching around to the center of his back, and then a slashing motion, and then a heavy thud.

“Danny, still!” Steve barked out, and Danny went motionless, somehow, despite every instinct in him to kick and pummel desperately. A shot, and then the weight was off of him, and there was a preternatural silence all around.

Danny yelped as a flashlight exploded in his vision. He yanked away the night vision goggles to see Steve bending over him, frantically checking for injuries.

“‘M’fine,” Danny grunted.

“It didn’t gore you?”

“It what now?!?!” Danny scrambled to his feet. Steve was bent over, hands on his knees, catching his breath, while Danny grabbed for his own flashlight.

When he got a good look at the motionless mound on the ground, he turned the light off again.

“What, and I mean this sincerely, the ever-loving fuck is that?!”

“That’s a wild boar, Danny,” Steve panted. “One of the most intelligent and dangerous animals on the planet.”

“And that thing is in my backyard?!?”

“No, not normally,” Steve said, standing up straight slowly. “Poachers. Flushed them this way. They normally avoid humans.”

Chin’s voice sounded in their radios. “I’m escorting our uninvited guests back to the cabin, where I’ll handle things with the game warden and HPD. They’ll have no trouble accepting that the new owner of the property is unavailable, tending to his frightened daughter. Keeps Danny and Grace off the radar.”

“Copy that,” Steve said. He thumbed off his radio, and Danny followed suit.

“You’re sure they were poachers?” Danny asked.

“As sure as we can be of anything at this point,” Steve said.

“Which means probably but there’s always a chance . . . “

“Yeah,” Steve said.

Danny ran a hand through his hair and blew out a breath. “Okay. Well, regardless, I need to get to Grace, be sure she’s okay, and get her settled.”

“Go, I’ll lock up,” Steve urged, squeezing Danny’s shoulder briefly.

“Did not have these situations in Jersey . . . “ Danny muttered, heading back into the house. He could hear Steve chuckling behind him.

*****

Steve paced in front of the doors to the deck. He could hear Danny’s voice, soft and patient, answering Grace’s questions. 

“Sweet dreams, Monkey,” Danny said, pulling her door closed gently.

“If you think for one minute that I’m leaving here tonight, you can forget about it,” Steve said, squaring his shoulders and planting his feet. He crossed his arms across his chest and practically glared at Danny.

“That’s fine, there’s plenty of clean towels in the hall bathroom.”

“And I don’t mean at the cabin, either. Chin has the perimeter, from the cabin, but on the slightest chance that the poaching was a cover, there should be two of us here with Grace.”

“You keep a go-bag in your truck, right? Or I’m happy to give you clean skivvies and a pair of basketball shorts,” Danny said. He slowly pulled at the Velcro of his tac vest, wincing. Every muscle was screaming -- as much from tension, he figured, than from the actual exertion.

“Don’t fight me on this, Danny, I’m staying --”

“Okay, now hold on a damn Jersey minute,” Danny said, dropping his vest on the table with a solid thud. “I’m _not_ fighting you on this. If you’d been paying attention you might have picked up on my offer of clean towels and clean underwear, for Christ’s sake. You think after today I’m gonna turn down an extra gun, with my baby girl sleeping down the hall? You must be a special kind of idiot --”

Steve covered the distance between them in two long strides, and before Danny could even register the movement, Steve’s hand was clamped firmly over his mouth.

“Don’t wake up Grace,” Steve murmured.

Danny would swear in court that he had no idea what prompted him to bite -- and not too gently, either -- the callused hand covering his mouth, and then soothe the bite, worrying at it with his tongue. Time stopped, and space narrowed down to the thin circle of hazel around Steve’s blown pupils.

Steve’s hand slid along Danny’s jaw, until his long fingers were cradling his face, his thumb brushing absently over the thick stubble. He inhaled sharply and took a half step back.

“You said the clean towels were in the bathroom down the hall, I’ll just . . . “ he said. His roughened voice was doing interesting things to Danny’s spine.

It was the absolute worst idea, the worst time, the worst place, just a colossally bad idea, Danny thought, to keep standing this close to Steve. He definitely needed to send Steve down the hall. He cleared his throat, so he could let Steve know, and --

“Plenty of clean towels in my room, too,” he said, instead.

Steve’s eyes widened in surprise, and Danny would have mentioned that Steve was in no way more surprised than he was, but he couldn’t really say anything, not with Steve’s hands on his jaw, tilting his head up, fingers sliding back into his unruly hair so he could angle his face to his liking as he assaulted Danny’s mouth with his own. It took Danny a hot second to go from _what the hell_ to _hell yes_ , and then his hands were fisted in Steve’s tac vest, pulling at him impatiently.

Steve stepped readily back into Danny’s personal space, one long leg pressing along the outside of Danny’s, all solid warmth and muscle, and honest-to-god _thigh holster_. A flash of rational thought pierced through the haze of Danny’s fully awakened libido.

“We’re still armed,” Danny murmured, his lips moving against Steve’s.

Steve made a sound that indicated he either acknowledged or was turned on by the idea, or maybe both.

“There’s a child in the house, all of the guns have to be stowed securely,” Danny said. “I have a place in my room.”

“With the towels,” Steve mumbled absently, still crowding into Danny’s space.

Danny grabbed his discarded vest with one hand and yanked Steve down the hall with the other. Steve was the last one through the bedroom door, which Danny closed by pressing Steve against it, reaching around him to flip the lock.

“Grace . . .” Steve murmured, hesitating, even as his hands wandered over Danny’s shoulders.

“Grace will call for me if she needs me, and I go to her; she does not leave her room or open her door once she’s gone to bed for the night. That’s the rule and she does not break rules,” Danny said. He took a deep breath and a step back, remembering the need to stow their weapons. He turned his vest over in his hands, pulling out extra magazines and placing them neatly on the dresser. Steve silently mimicked his actions, nodding his approval at Danny’s system and placement of storage as they stowed away guns, magazines, and in Steve's case -- a frankly terrifying knife. The high, almost hidden shelf with a silently sliding door was inaccessible to a small human, but they could be fully armed, locked and loaded, in mere seconds if necessary. 

It took just enough time that Danny expected to be having second thoughts; to have come to his senses. But Steve was still standing just inches away, having stowed his gear so carefully, almost reverently, every movement telegraphing his understanding and concern for the most precious thing in Danny’s life . . . and he still had the damn thigh holster on.

Steve leaned over and did something quick but complicated with his bootlaces, and then he was stepping out of them, kicking them aside. Danny followed suit, mindless of the hapless pile of socks, shoes, and boots now tangled beside the dresser.

“Come’ere,” Danny said, reaching out and reeling Steve in by a belt loop. Steve came easily, eagerly toward him, long arms wrapping around Danny’s shoulders and back.

“I’m sorry, Danny,” he murmured, ducking his head down to nuzzle along Danny’s jaw, their stubble catching and making something deep in Danny’s belly do little flips.

Danny’s hands stopped on their way to the holster. Was Steve having second thoughts? That seemed uncharacteristic, but -- “What?” he managed.

“That this is why we met. That Grace lost her mom, that she had to learn so young to be so careful . . . I’m glad you came to the island. I’m sorry for all that you went through to get here.” His arms tightened around Danny.

Danny’s breath caught in his throat. For so damn long, he had been the strong one, the responsible one -- even when he felt sure he would be crushed by the weight of all of it, he had no choice but to push through. Chin’s solid presence and loyalty in sharing the load had saved his sanity, he was sure of it, but once this case was resolved, Chin would move on, but _this_ \-- being _held_ , knowing without being told that Steve would gladly step in front of a bullet for him, for his _child_ \-- literally took his breath away.

“Hey,” Steve said softly, pulling back just enough to search out Danny’s eyes, his hands rubbing soothing circles on his tense shoulders. 

“I just -- “ Danny shook his head helplessly. He had no words, and wasn’t that a first?

“I know,” Steve whispered, and then pressed a soft kiss to Danny’s forehead. “Danny, we’ve got this. I’ve got you.”

Steve was deftly but gently tacking Danny’s belt, his shirt buttons, with his long, nimble fingers. Danny’s hands felt clumsy and shaky as he tugged Steve’s tshirt out from his cargoes. Steve grinned and reached one hand back behind his neck, pulling the soft material up and over his head in one fluid movement. It made his hair stick up on the back of his head, and Danny found it oddly endearing in the split second before his attention was drawn to the broad planes of Steve’s chest that he’d tried -- and failed -- not to ogle on the beach.

He felt his pants slipping low on his hips and realized that as much as he liked -- really, really liked -- Steve’s thigh holster, it had to go. Now. He fumbled with the buckles and straps, cursing under his breath. Then it was Steve who was cursing as the back of Danny’s hand brushed over the straining button fly of his cargoes.

“Fuck this,” Steve muttered, reaching down and releasing the holster in two swift movements. “I’ll show you how to do it next time,” he added, batting away Danny’s hands and popping open the buttons of his fly as well.

“I got goofy thumbs,” Danny shrugged.

Steve pushed the shirt off Danny’s shoulders, letting it tangle briefly around his elbows and taking advantage of the opportunity to crowd into Danny’s space, nudging him toward the bed while pressing hot kisses across his collarbone.

“Shower,” Danny gasped, as Steve’s teeth worried at a particularly sensitive spot. “We are covered in jungle, you Neanderthal, don’t even think about rolling your leaf-covered self into my clean bed.”

“You did lure me in here with the promise of towels,” Steve said, stepping backward gracefully as Danny wrapped his hands around his hipbones and steered him toward the bathroom.

“There was no luring,” Danny said. “You kissed me.”

“You bit me,” Steve argued. “How big is your shower?”

“Big enough . . .”

*****

A second shower later, they collapsed, exhausted, into a tangle of limbs in Danny’s double bed.

“I have a king size bed, just throwing that out there,” Steve said, as he angled himself diagonally so that his feet didn’t hang off the end.

“I wasn’t expecting to share the bed with anyone,” Danny said. He poked Steve in the ribs. It was Steve’s fault, after all, for being so . . . so . . . _Steve_. His fingers moved over Steve’s ribcage more gently, feeling the ridges of scars. “Is this what put you out of commission?

“Hmm. This, a fractured pelvis, and a perforated eardrum.”

“Shit.”

Steve was silent for a long moment, not seeming to mind Danny’s gentle exploration of the scars on his body. Just to be sure, Danny pressed a kiss to a particularly jagged stretch of silver and looked up at Steve.

Steve smiled and ran his fingers through Danny’s hair. A long minute later, he spoke.

“I wasn’t injured in Afghanistan.”

“No?” Danny rested his palm on Steve’s ribs, letting his fingertips toy with the coarse hair bisecting those unfairly sculpted abs.

Steve blew out a breath. “It’s classified.”

“You don’t have to tell me,” Danny said.

“I want . . . I want to tell you enough. It’s not -- I don’t want to go into this with any more secrets between us than necessary. It might . . . look. There are people who would love to see me dead, too, and . . . it’s not fair for you to be kept in the dark. You have Grace to consider.”

Danny nodded; Steve’s body warm and solid under his cheek.

“I was in a location where American military is definitely not supposed to be. I was bringing in a high-level target. I’d lost my best friend just two days before . . . he’d sacrificed his life for this mission.”

“I’m sorry, babe,” Danny murmured.

“There was -- my phone rang. It was my dad. He was -- people connected to my target, my mission, were going to use him to leverage me to give up our prisoner. It -- it started to go sideways. They shot my dad. Executed him, in his own house, in his study. I heard it, knew he was gone.”

Danny felt Steve take a shuddering breath.

“Then all hell broke loose; a rescue attempt. I was half way out of the APV when it just exploded. I remember feeling the shrapnel, like sand and pebbles when you wipe out on a wave and get pulled along the ocean floor. I think I was in and out . . . there was a lot of noise, shouting and shooting and then . . . it was all quiet. I realized I was the only survivor. I tried to get up, couldn’t -- just, could not get my legs under me at all. I crawled toward what was left of the tank, tried to find a radio . . . I found some water, I remember drinking it, and then . . .”

“Shit,” Danny said. 

“The next thing I knew, I was being lifted, loaded on to some sort of makeshift stretcher. It was agonizing. I don’t think I’ve ever experienced so much pain . . . thankfully I passed out; I have no idea for how long. I woke up, and there was this wrinkled little man . . .” Steve chuckled at the memory. “I remember thinking I was in really deep shit, because he looked like Yoda.”

Danny laughed, then reached across Steve and took his hand, linking their fingers together.

“My hips and back had been wrapped in something tight . . . so tight, it almost hurt, but -- I could tell, it was stabilizing everything. I looked down and -- I looked like a goddamn pincushion. Needles everywhere -- my ribs, legs, arms -- swear to God, if I hadn’t been wrapped up tight, he’d have stuck needles in my dick.”

“And that’s how you discovered acupuncture,” Danny said. “When Chin said it had helped you recover from being wounded in action, I assumed, you know -- at a nice Naval base in California, pretty Navy nurses and what not.”

“That’s what everyone assumes, and that’s what the Navy lets everyone believe. While I healed with traditional Eastern medicine -- instead of the pins and plates I would have been given here -- the Navy gave a token answer to anyone who asked.”

“So you were in spec ops,” Danny said quietly.

“Yeah. So, there weren’t many people asking. When I reappeared, it was easy enough to explain away. There is a fabricated medical file with my name on it at Landstuhl -- all of these injuries plus an extended period of unconsciousness followed by a period of amnesia. A convenient way to explain how I was missing in action on the wrong side of a border, which is why the Navy never sent search and rescue.”

“Fuckers,” Danny muttered.

“It’s why Mary was told that I was presumed dead. But in reality, I’d been pulled out of that wreckage by a group of villagers, and they nursed me back to health. They didn’t care which flag was on my uniform or which branch of military was stamped on my dog tags. And then as soon as I could walk, I made my way back to the right side of the border and contacted the Navy. You know the rest.”

Danny mulled over that. “So . . . your dad wasn’t killed in a botched home invasion.”

“He was closing in on an organized crime operation that turned out to have international connections. And I think . . . he was investigating my mom’s death. I think that he had found out that she wasn’t killed by a drunk driver, that she was murdered, too.”

“And all of this was tied to the person you had taken into custody?”

“Yeah.”

“So the people that killed your dad . . .”

“Are still out there,” Steve said quietly. “I thought . . . I thought I could just let it go. Let the next Naval intelligence team take over; hope for the best, hope they get caught.”

“And now?”

Steve pulled Danny closer to him. “Now? I’m not sure. I thought about what you said, about looking over your shoulder. What if they come after Mary? What if they come after you and Grace, once . . . “

“Once what?”

Steve cleared his throat. “I mean, once we’re . . . together. If this isn’t just a one-time thing.”

“Do you want it to be a one-time thing?” Danny asked, keeping his voice as level as possible. “It’s not a trick question. I get it, if you do. Me and Grace, we’re a lot to take on.”

“I don’t want it to be a one-time thing,” Steve said. “I don’t want to give you up. But I’ve been trying so hard to shove away the past, and avoid thinking about the future, I don’t . . .”

“I’m living in limbo too, Steve,” Danny said. “It’s like . . . there’s this singular reality: me and Grace, waiting until Housand is arrested, tried, and sentenced. I hadn’t thought beyond that, but . . . when you asked me the other day, if I missed Jersey . . . I know I’m not going back. I don’t know about a lot of things, but I know I don’t want to go back, and I know I don’t want to walk away from you, either.”

Steve rolled so that he was over Danny, resting his weight on his elbows, bracketing Danny’s body between his strong arms.

“I want you,” he whispered. Danny looked up into the hazel eyes, pupils blown wide in the dim light. “I don’t want to let you go.”

Danny shivered slightly. “Possessive bastard, aren’t you?”

“You have no idea,” Steve murmured, and proceeded to lay claim to Danny once more.


	12. Chapter 12

“That’s creepy,” Danny mumbled. He’d drifted slowly awake, and was aware of being watched.

“I’m not doing anything.”

“You’re staring at me.”

“Because I can.”

Danny thought about that for a moment. Steve had a point. He’d failed miserably at trying not to stare . . . it would be nice to be able to indulge, now. It was light outside, even.

“We have a small window before Grace is awake,” he said. “Could I interest you in yet another shower? The light is exceptionally nice in the bathroom in the morning . . .”

*****

“Do you -- should I --” Steve hesitated in the hallway outside Grace’s door. Surely Danny wouldn’t want her to see him anywhere near the bedroom, right? Because she would know he’d slept over, and . . . “Oh God,” he said faintly.

“What?” Danny’s eyes crinkled in amusement.

“I don’t think I can face her.”

“Steve. She’s eight. All she knows so far is that areas covered by a bathing suit are private.”

“Oh,” Steve felt literally weak with relief. “Okay.”

“Goof,” Danny said. He was looking up at him so fondly that Steve had to bend down for one more kiss. “You done?”

“For now,” Steve shrugged.

Danny opened the door to Grace’s room. “Monkey?” he called out softly.

“Danno.” They both immediately went on high alert at the soft whimper. Danny crossed the room to her bed quickly, Steve right behind.

“Hey, Grace,” Danny said, kneeling by the bed. Steve knew that it had to tweak his bad knee, but Danny seemed heedless. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

“Hurts,” Grace said. Her little body jerked, and then she was vomiting, too weak to do much more than turn her head. Danny was liberally splashed with the thankfully meager contents of her stomach. 

“Linen closet?” Steve asked quietly. 

“Hall bathroom,” Danny said, gathering Grace in his arms.

“‘M’sorry,” Grace mumbled. She was pale and limp in Danny’s arms, and it scared Steve shitless. He dashed into the bathroom ahead of Danny and started pulling towels from the tidy closet.

“It’s okay, baby,” Danny soothed. He sat Grace on the counter, supporting her with one hand and turning the sink on with the other. Steve handed him a washcloth, their movements in perfect synchronization without conscious effort. Otherwise, Steve stood, feeling helpless, and watched as Danny tenderly cleaned Grace’s face.

“Look at that, nothing on your jammies or in your hair,” Danny said. He filled a small cup with water and held it to Grace’s mouth. “Swish and spit, Monkey.”

Grace followed his instructions, her eyes closed against the brightness of the bathroom light, trusting Danny to guide her movements. Danny caught a glimpse of his shirt in the mirror and grimaced.

“Hold her for a second?” he asked, looking at Steve in the reflection.

Steve held out his arms and Danny handed Grace off to him. She scrunched up her face and buried it in Steve’s neck. He could feel hot tears splashing against his skin. Danny peeled off his t-shirt, carefully, and tossed it in the sink.

“Her meds are in the kitchen, be right there,” he said, hurrying to his room.

Steve carried Grace slowly toward the open living area of the house, rubbing her back gently. “Danno’s going to be right here, sweetheart.” 

“‘Kay,” she whispered, clinging to him.

Danny appeared in a fresh shirt, and headed for a high cabinet. “Liquid,” he explained, showing Steve the bottle. “This spoon.” He held out a funny looking tube with a spoon end on it. “Two teaspoons.” Steve watched intently as Danny filled the measure with the sticky pink liquid. To his surprise, Danny didn’t move to take Grace from him, just tapped her cheek gently until she turned her head. He dribbled the medicine into her mouth. She made a face, but no complaint.

“You want to sit down with her? We need to get her to eat a couple of crackers.”

Steve’s heart felt like it would burst at Danny’s words -- _we_.

“What’s that face?” Danny asked, smiling at him. 

“I don’t have a face,” Steve scoffed.

“You, my friend, must never win at poker. You have many faces . . . I think this one is my favorite so far.”

*****

“So,” Danny said, walking from Grace’s room back to the kitchen. “That’s life with a youngster with traumatic brain injury. She’ll sleep for a few hours now; the medication knocks her out; plus, she probably wasn’t sleeping very well, with that coming on.”

Steve poured two mugs of coffee and sat down with Danny at the table.

“Danny, I’m so sorry she goes through that. You’re . . . you’re an amazing father. I wish . . . she’s lucky to have you.”

“I just want to do right by her, you know? I’ll always question . . . being in ATF, accepting that undercover . . . “

Steve nodded. He’d done more than enough second-guessing to sympathize. “I could try to help,” he said. At Danny’s quizzical look, he clarified. “Acupuncture. Obviously, the brain takes time to heal, but I might be able to relieve some of the pain.”

“I think she’d be nervous about the needles,” Danny said. “But, she’s watched you work with my knee a couple times . . .”

“I’d start with acupressure, let her get comfortable with that. Only if you -- and she -- are okay with the idea.”

“Babe -- anything that would help her, I’m on board. I know, I was a skeptic but . . . not anymore. Next time, we’ll try it, yeah?”

Steve nodded. “You say she’ll sleep for a while now?”

“Yeah, couple hours at least.”

“That’s good because . . . we’ve got a mess in the yard to clean up. And I’m not sure how they do it in ATF, but weapons were discharged last night which means --”

“Yeah, yeah, clean and safety check, we aren’t Neanderthals . . . “

*****

“Holy shit these things are terrifying! I did not have these problems in Jersey.”

Steve was crouching by the boar, securing their legs so that the game warden could remove them and dispose of them properly. He grinned up at Danny. “Come on, Danno, we could make a boar skin rug.”

“Absolutely not. Those things are disgusting.”

Steve absently wiped his hands on his cargo pants. “Okay, that’s done. They’ll get hauled away, no harm no foul.”

“No harm? The damn thing tried to eat me.”

Steve stepped into Danny’s space. “Well, I can’t blame them.”

“Down boy. We have some weapons to strip and clean.”

“I love it when you talk dirty, Danny.”

They agreed it was time to clean and check all of the weapons, given the humidity in the garage. Everything was spread out neatly and they were just getting started when Danny’s phone pinged.

“Front gate -- must be the game warden. Chin will be bringing him down.”

They set about their work in comfortable silence, each catching the other out stealing glances at strong hands moving confidently and competently over sidearms and rifles. Steve stood close to Danny and very slowly and deliberately reached up and over him to replace a box of ammo on a high shelf.

“Animal,” Danny mumbled, but Steve’s ploy worked, and he grabbed Steve by the belt loops and pulled him close. 

“You love it,” Steve teased, looking down at Danny, his eyes heated.

“I love you,” Danny said. He caught his breath. What was he, a teenager, declaring love on a -- was this another date? did cleaning up carcasses and weapons count as--

His train of thought was interrupted as Steve wrapped his arms around him and lifted him slightly, pressing him against the table and forcing one strong thigh between his knees, then stepping into the space created. Steve kept one arm in a firm grip around Danny’s waist, the table supporting most of his weight, and slid his other hand into Danny’s hair, tangling and pulling gently. Danny let out a groan of protest.

He’d claim it was protest, anyway, and no one could really prove otherwise.

Steve seemed to be actively trying to kiss Danny senseless. It was working pretty well.

“I love you,” Steve said, soft and quiet, but firm, in Danny’s ear. 

They didn’t hear the door open. They did, however, hear Kono, loud and clear.

“Holy fucking shit,” she breathed out. They turned to look at her, standing just inside the garage, her eyes huge and mouth in a surprised little ‘o’.

“Kono came by,” Chin announced calmly, and unnecessarily. “The same time as the game warden, who I will step outside to assist, and let you all do . . . whatever it is that is happening here.”

“One of my friends’ sisters is cousins with the game warden, and they said there was a boar attack here last night! And I tried texting but no one responded, so I just drove out, and when I got to the gate, the game warden was there. So Chin let me in and said something about being read in? Is this what he was talking about? I mean, I knew you two would eventually do it but . . . what the fuck?!? You’re both kinda bruised up and do I even want to _know_? Okay, actually, yes, I would love to know, I would very much like to have video, because oh my god, seriously, you are both so hot, and it’s not fair, but first, also, please explain the two -- two! -- dead boar in the yard?”

“Well,” Danny started, trying to muster some shred of dignity, “the bruises came from being attacked by those wretched things.”

Kono arched an eyebrow. “You making out with the boar? You wanna go with that explanation for that hickey? What are you, fourteen?”

Danny threw his hands up in exasperation while Steve just beamed smugly at Kono.

“And I can get why maybe Steve would have a weapons stash, I mean, he used to be military, although this looks like overkill . . . but Danny? You’re in real estate. I don’t -- why?” Kono put her hands on her hips. “Just what the actual fuck is going on here?”

Danny rubbed his eyes. He was going to need at least one more cup of coffee.

*****

“. . . so, that’s how we ended up here,” Danny said. Steve refilled their coffee mugs. “We had to go with a cover name that was close enough that an eight year old could manage it. Hospitals and clinics have databases, and insist on insurance, and that’s how I ended up in Steve’s office. And Grace is still sleeping because she’s still healing, too.”

Kono brushed tears from her eyes. “Danny, I’m so sorry for all of it. Especially for what Grace has been through . . . “

As if on cue, Grace’s voice came from the hallway. “Danno? I’m awaked up now and could there be pancakes?”

“Come on out here, baby . . . Steve and Kono are here.” They could hear Grace’s soft footfalls. “And pancakes? This time of day? What, we just eat breakfast at all hours of the day and night around here?”

Grace giggled and made a beeline for Steve. He scooped her up and kissed her on the cheek. “You feeling better, sweetheart?” 

She nodded. “But I’m hungry.”

“Oh, I see how it is,” Danny said, clutching at his chest in mock distress. “You only keep me around for my cooking? Well, guess I better make some really good pancakes then.”

“I’d like mine with bananas,” Steve said. “And . . . chocolate chips.”

“Oooooh chocolate, that sounds perfect,” Kono added.

“And the two of you, taking advantage of Grace’s request -- shameless, I tell you.”

Kono laughed and stood, pushing her sleeves up. “I’ll help,” she said. “And I mean that, Danny . . . not just with pancakes. Anything. Anything I can do to help . . . any time. Just name it.”

“Thank you,” Danny said, reaching for his phone. He stared at it for a long moment. “I . . . ah, I’m going to have to take you up on that, Kono.”

“What?” Kono asked.

Steve stood, propping Grace on one hip, and walked over to Danny. He put a hand on his shoulder. “What’s happening?”

Danny looked up at them. “It’s done,” he said slowly. “It’s done. FBI and AFT pulled off a raid last night. Housand is in custody. I have to go back to New York.”

Steve reached out his free arm and pulled Danny in close. “It’s going to be over, Danny.”

“I need you to look after Grace,” Danny said. “Okay, Monkey? I need you to stay here with Steve and --” he glanced at Kono, who nodded furiously -- “and with Auntie Kono. Can you do that for me?”

Grace’s eyes were wide, and her lower lip trembled. “Okay, but why can’t I be with you?”

“I think you’ll be safer and happier here,” Danny said gently. “I’m going to be in court, for long, long hours, maybe for many days.”

“And the bad man will be there?”

“He will. But the people who work with me, and with Chin, will be in charge of him.”

“I can stay here,” Grace said. She wrapped her arms around Steve’s neck. “You’ll come home soon, though -- right Danno?”

Danny looked at Steve, holding Grace, and _knew_.

“Yeah, Grace. I’ll be coming home soon.”


	13. Epilogue

Steve stood inside the kitchen, the curtains moving gently in the open window. Through it, he could see his family -- his ohana -- on the lanai. Grace was bustling around, fetching snacks and drinks for Kono, who was ensconced in a comfortable chair, her braced knee elevated. They’d all taken turns sitting with her in the hospital as she wrestled with pain and the disappointment of a surfing career over before it really started. She was in physical therapy now, and of course acupuncture with Steve, and she’d announced earlier that day that her application to the police academy had been accepted.

Mary was at the edge of the water with Chin, tossing a football back and forth. She’d been home for about a month now, and she’d tackled the project of cleaning and updating the two downstairs bedrooms for herself and Grace. Last night, it had been Mary that Grace called for after a nightmare. Last week, Steve had smiled and hugged Mary when he handed her the brochure that had arrived in the mail -- at her request, according to the script on the outside -- of an information session for the licensed counseling program at the University of Hawaii.

“Babe, I’ve got the potatoes and veggies going,” Danny said, coming in the back door. He paused, taking in Steve’s pensive expression. “You good?” he asked softly.

“I’m good,” Steve said. He reached for Danny and pulled him close. Danny pulled him down for a gentle kiss that quickly escalated. 

“Hold that thought,” Danny said, “and please come start the steaks, so everyone that doesn’t live here can eat and go home.” He grinned wickedly at Steve.

“I’ll be right there,” Steve promised. “Just one thing I need to take care of first.”

“You sure you’re okay?”

Steve pressed another kiss to Danny’s lips. “Positive. Be right out.”

He was still watching Danny when he dialed the number and waited for the answer.

“Governor Jameson, hello. Steve McGarrett. Yes, ma’am. I’ve decided to accept your offer. The task force.”

A smile spread across his face.

“Let’s just say I found something that made me change my mind . . . “

*****

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Playlist for "There's a Crack In Everything"](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26065987) by [pterawaters](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pterawaters/pseuds/pterawaters)




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